


Empathy (There's None Of That Here)

by tieressian



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dark, Death, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Empath, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Forbidden Love, Friendship/Love, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Love, Lullabies, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Murder, Mutant Reader, Mutants, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Protective Bucky Barnes, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Sweet Bucky Barnes, Torture, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2020-10-24 11:47:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20705474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tieressian/pseuds/tieressian
Summary: Empath's are often underestimated, believed to be weak, frail, and helpless. (Y/N) uses this stereotype to her advantage, navigating her life in Hydra with ease.But a fateful run in with the Winter Soldier throws her world off balance. Thrust into a new life of assassinations, secrets, and maybe even love, (Y/N) struggles to keep her head above water.Will the Soldat drag her down into the depths, or will she rise above with him in tow?





	1. Chapter One:Begin Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This idea came to me recently, and I had to write it all down. Please let me know what you think, and if the plot makes sense (and you can actually follow it....) Enjoy!

_ Deceit_.

The captive reeked of the emotion. Sharp and sour, tasting like the bitter aftertaste of a lemon drop. Too sweet, too tangy.

“He’s lying,” (Y/N) rasped, interrupting the prisoner’s desperate babbling.

“No! No! I’m not, I swear,” the man sobbed, struggling against his restraints, tears flowing down his cheeks.

“I’ll ask you again,” the interrogator said cooly, a Russian accent tinting his words, “who is transporting the serum?”

“I don’t know!” the man cried. 

_ Deceit. _

“Lies,” she repeated, shaking her head in disappointment. If he just told the truth, the pain would end. Albeit with a bullet to the brain.

The interrogator tsked, “So loyal, such devotion is pointless.” He turned to her and nodded his head authoritatively, she knew what to do next.

She reached out and lightly pressed the tips of her fingers against the prisoners temple, linking up directly to his emotions.

_ Terror. Confusion. Helplessness. Distress. Confliction. _She could feel it all. 

She took a deep breath to steady herself from the endless barrage, and began to project a singular emotion. Mind numbing, panic inducing, brain breaking fear. It wrapped around his brain like a boa, squeezing tightly like a snake would constrict a mouse.

The man gasped for breath, hyperventilating with the overwhelming sensation of panic. Sweat dripped down his brow, his shoulders quivering slightly as he suffered. The captive was just a scientist, he wouldn’t last much longer under torture. 

She withdrew her fingers and stepped back. Watching as the scientist panted and slumped forward, resting his weight against the restraints.

“So?” The interrogator asked.

The captive licked his chapped lips, still recovering from the panic attack. He looked up from the floor and locked eyes with the interrogator. “Stark. Howard Stark.”

The interrogator smiled gleefully, lips pulling back to reveal revoltingly perfect teeth. “Thank you for your cooperation.” He pulled out his gun and fired a bullet straight into the captive’s skull. Blood and brain matter splattered against the back of the chair, forming a demented Jackson Pollock painting. The scientist went limp, his eyes rolling back into his head as his life slipped away. 

(Y/N) barely suppressed a wince. Even after all these years she wasn’t used to the deaths.

Several guards clad in tactical gear filed into the room. The interrogator rapidly addressed them in Russian, “Get rid of him…send the soldier…intercept.” (Y/N) only understood a few words, having been forced to learn the language out of necessity. 

The guards pinned her arms roughly to her sides, proceeding to drag her out of the interrogation room and into the hall. She followed along meekly, head lowered in submission as they escorted her back to her cell. They opened the cell door and tossed her in, not even bothering to be gentle about it. She fell bodily to the floor, hissing through her teeth as her skull cracked against the concrete. Her vision went white, the derogatory comments of the guards sounding far away as she floated in the blissful nothingness, but she was forced back into reality by the loud slamming of the door. Blinking dumbly as the room plunged into almost complete darkness, (Y/N) slowly rose to her feet. Meticulously dusting herself off in an attempt to regain some of her dignity.

“Hail fucking Hydra,” she muttered angrily, glaring after the guards. She quickly schooled her expression to something blank and placid.

She couldn’t risk being seen disobeying.

* * * *

Klaxons wailed, red lights flared. Agents rushed down the hall just outside her cell, the even thump of their footsteps sounding like the steady beat of a drum.

The distant echoes of a brawl sounded over the cacophony of alarms. The loud staccato of fists hitting flesh and bodies being slammed to the floor echoing throughout the base. Primal growls and shouts filled the air, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to rise instinctively.

(Y/N) curled up in the corner of her cell, clutching her knees to her chest as she rocked silently back and forth. She bit her lip until it bled, trying to ignore the rageful emotions emanating from somewhere in the distance.

Suddenly, the emotions disappeared, fading away into nothingness. (Y/N) couldn’t help the fear that welled up within her as the alarms abruptly shut off, knowing that something just wasn’t right.

* * * *

She was able to connect the dots when the rumors started. Rumors that the Hydra agents discussed loudly right outside her cell. Sometimes being underestimated is beneficial, a perk that she used to her advantage.

She learned about the new winter soldiers. Learned how the program had backfired, how the soldiers had rioted and attacked their handlers. 

They didn’t say what happened to them, but it was very easy to guess.

Hydra didn’t allow failure.

* * * *

Several days passed before the alarms sounded again. The agents seemed more panicked this time. Their footsteps more erratic, off tempo as they ran about. 

(Y/N) once again sat down in the corner of her cell, fully prepared to spend the next few hours or so blocking out the tidal wave of emotions. She wasn’t expecting for her cell door to open, for an army of agents to grab her by the arm and drag her out of the room. 

She stumbled as she was pulled roughly across the base, biting back the countless questions that weighed on her tongue. The lights flashed blood red as the alarms screamed, her eyes and ears protesting the barrage of senses. The agents were undoubtedly panicked, she could’ve told you that without her empathic abilities. Their postures overly rigid, eyes wide and fearful, fingers clenching and unclenching repeatedly.

As they went deeper into the facility, down long winding halls and dark elevator shafts, the alarms quieted. The lights fading from an angry red to a softer, crimson tinted hue. 

The agents marched her down one last hallway, coming to a stop in front of a metal door. There were fist sized dents in the reinforced metal, as if someone had whaled on the door with the force of ten men. She could hear metallic screeching from the other side, unholy and sick. The sound of metal being ripped apart as easily as cloth. She took a hesitant step forward, regretting it immediately as pain exploded inside her skull.

_ Rage. Pure, undiluted fury. _

She doubled over with the force of it, feeling her blood begin to boil with just the slight exposure. Her mouth went dry, her muscles spasming slightly as she rested her hands on her knees. She’d never been so overwhelmed by emotion before. She was overcome with the desire to _ fight. _ To _ punch, _ and _ kick _, to beat someone until they were bloody and broken. She pushed down the uncharacteristic urge and straightened up, swallowing thickly in an attempt to ignore the volcano of emotion that bubbled from behind the door.

“Calm him down,” an agent ordered simply, throwing the door open and tossing her inside before she could even blink.

(Y/N) whirled around, watching in horror as the door slammed shut with an air of finality. She shivered, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist. Was it because of the freezing temperature, or from the panic that had taken over her mind?

She slowly turned around, ignoring the barrage of emotions that attacked her from within. Her breath caught in her throat, ice cold terror seizing her insides as she looked around the room.

Bodies. The bodies were the first things she noticed. Their necks snapped and faces caved in. As if someone had punched a watermelon, exposing the fleshy, meaty pulp within. The corpses wore tattered lab coats, probably a scientist’s, stained red with their own blood. She felt bile rise up in her throat, but she swallowed it down.

She averted her gaze from the bodies, taking in the complete destruction. Metal and glass debris was scattered across the floor, and exposed wires were sparking intermittently. The room was lined with orange tinted cyro units, all housing a single person inside. Except one. The empty one was broken, the panels cracked and even completely shattered in some places. In the center of the room was an imposing metal chair. Tubes and wires running off from the chair and into surrounding machines. A headset was set just above the chair, snapped off and hanging on just barely by the wires. She gingerly shifted her weight from one foot to another, carefully avoiding the glass shards on the floor.

Her attention shifted from the destruction to the dark mass huddled in the corner. She tilted her head curiously to the side, reaching out to them with her abilities. Her eyes widened with the realization that she found the source of the anger, and she stood frozen, unsure of what to do next.

The man in the corner stiffened, standing up to his full height and turning to face her. His expression was distant, his icy grey eyes glinting cooly in the dim light. Sweat slicked hair stuck to his damp forehead, his chest heaving from overexertion. His muscles rippled as he stood, his skin speckled with the dead scientists blood. His fists clenched tightly, his metal arm whirring contemplatively as he assessed her with blank eyes. The blood drained from her face as she realized just who it was that was staring her down.

The Asset.

They had sent her to die. A last defense. A desperate attempt to keep the dam together, to prevent it from collapsing for just a moment longer. Trying to spare themselves from the imminent flood.

She took a deep, calming breath. She could totally do this.

The newfound confidence disappeared when his metal fingers wrapped around her neck.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Y/N) is backed into a corner, literally. And has to think on her feet in order to survive her dangerous encounter with the Winter Soldier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda dub con. Reader is using her abilities, and Bucky isn't in the right state of mind to consent to anything. However, there is no smut. (You'll see)

The metal hand was cold against her throat, trapping her neck in an unforgiving grip. She gaped like a fish, struggling to draw in a breath despite the unrelenting pressure on her windpipe. Her fingers desperately scrabbled for purchase on his arm, fingernails clicking audibly against the metal plating.

A sharp yelp slipped past her lips as she was painfully slammed against the wall, flailing helplessly as she was hoisted several feet above the ground. She thrashed about in terror, kicking at the Asset fruitlessly. He didn’t even flinch as she rained blows on him, only tightening his grip on her throat.

Black spots began to dance at the edge of her vision, signaling her slow descent into unconsciousness. The encroaching blissful darkness was welcoming, a way to escape the rage that permeated the air.

Her eyes bugged out as she realized her panic induced stupidity, mentally kicking herself for forgetting her empathic abilities. She weakly reached out and touched her fingers to the Assets temple. He made no move to stop her, likely assuming she would be unable to cause any damage in her current state.

_ Rage. Raw, primal rage that burned for eons. Rage that won wars and started them. Anger that razed cities and built civilizations from the ground up. Rage, but with something stewing in the center, something that fanned the flame. But what? _

She used the last of her waning energy to extinguish his anger. Focusing her power into the tips of her fingers, she figuratively spread a cooling balm across his mind. Dousing the anger with quick efficiency. She nearly groaned in relief as the anger dissipated, the heavy weight of his rage finally being lifted off of her shoulders.

She peeked at the Asset through half-closed eyelids, expecting him to have calmed down immensely. Instead, the opposite seemed to have occurred. The Soldat’s bare chest heaved as his breathing picked up pace, almost hyperventilating. His eyes dilated in…that couldn’t possibly be fear?

But it was. The mystery emotion that had motivated the Assets rage; _ Crippling, chest tightening, horrible fear. _

She gazed with wide eyes as his muscles tensed, like metal cables threatening to snap. His bruising grip on her throat grew impossibly tight, squeezing the last of the air from her chest. When suddenly, he released her. She fell to the ground in a heap, gasping in relief as her lungs filled with much needed oxygen.

The Asset stumbled_ — _ honest to God _ stumbled _—backwards. Collapsing to the ground gracelessly with a heavy thump.

(Y/N) gingerly traced the finger-shaped indents on her neck, wincing as the light touch sent pain flashing through her nerves. She warily glanced over at the Asset, confused by the uncharacteristic appearance of the assassin. He was curled in on himself, shoulders quivering—_ Quivering!? _—as he drew in deep shaking breaths. He was staring pointedly at her, assessing her every move. His eyes were less blank, shining and blown with the panic that had overtaken him. But they hadn’t lost the glassy, “not all there” aspect of them.

It was almost sad, the level of terror that underlaid all of his previous anger. What had happened to him that made him feel so panicked? Was he here willingly, or had he been kidnapped like her? Just who was he? She was starting to ask questions again, Hydra wouldn’t like that.

(Y/N) opened her mouth to call for help, but the words wouldn’t come out. She could’ve left right then and there, could’ve called out to the agents and gotten out alive. But not a sound came from her throat, not a single word.

She slowly turned to face the panicking assassin, tentatively shuffling towards him. The Asset flinched, metal hand held outward in warning. He glared at her with murder in his eyes, jaw clenched tightly as sweat dripped down his brow. (Y/N) held her hands up in submission, crawling back hastily in fear and pressing herself up against the wall.

If she didn’t calm him down fully, and he killed one of the agents, it would be on her head. <strike>_ She was supposed to have destroyed her pesky moral scruples. Squashed down and ignored them out of necessity. And she would deny it until her dying breath, but a protective instinct had flared up within her upon seeing the panicking assassin. _</strike>

(Y/N) slowly inched forward, clearly projecting her movements so the Asset wouldn’t react violently. She radiated calm and soothing energy to help placate him, praying that it would be enough to ease his panic. The Soldat’s eyebrows furrowed as she grew closer, muscles tensing up as he prepared for a fight.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she whispered, her voice gravelly from lack of use. That didn’t soothe him in the slightest.

_ Distrust _.

“Okay,” she said softly as she sat on her knees, giving the Asset space. Both for his benefit, and her own. This would be more difficult than she thought. She didn’t need direct contact to influence emotions, but she wouldn’t be able to fully calm him without it.

“They sent me to calm you down,” she said simply, “not to punish you.” She moved forward a few more inches, stopping in her tracks as the Asset suddenly stood up. He towered over her intimidatingly, metal arm whirring and clicking as he clenched his fists. His nostrils flared and his long, dark hair fell in front of his eyes. Icy blue irises peeking out from behind the sweat slicked strands, wide and fearful like an animal backed into a corner.

(Y/N) slowly moved away from him, trembling in fear at the sudden change in emotion. She backed up against the wall, pressing herself into the sterile concrete as if she could phase right through.

_ Fear. Mistrust. Panic. Confusion. _

The Asset bent down and once again wrapped his metal fingers around her throat. He pinned her hands above her head, undoubtedly wary of her touch now that he knew what she could do. Thankfully, she didn’t need to touch his temple to connect with his emotions.

_ Panic. Panic. Panic. Pan— _

She slowly siphoned away the terror, feeling his iron grip falter and weaken as his fear waned. With shaking hands, he released his hold on her throat, clutching to her wrists like a lifeline.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she reiterated, her voice as soft and soothing as possible. The Soldat shook from head to toe, the slight trembling almost unnoticeable. His breath came out in soft puffs, evenly spaced, no longer hyperventilating. His eyes were half lidded and glassy, looking as if he were in a trance.

The Asset slowly slid to the ground, dragging (Y/N) down with him. He leaned against her with his full weight, pinioning her against the wall. She snuck a glance at him from the corner of her eye, watching as he blinked slowly in exhaustion. He clutched her right wrist in his metal hand, squeezing lightly, the metal plating pinching her skin.

Now it was her turn to panic. What exactly was happening here? This behavior was bizarre, even for someone relatively normal. And the Asset was anything but, if the rumors she heard were true. He was said to be emotionless, ruthless, a killing machine. Not the person practically falling asleep atop her. This must be a ruse of some sort. There was no other explanation. But his emotions told a different story.

_ Calm. _

He wasn’t trying to lull her into a false sense of security. This was genuine behavior, however strange it may be. 

Tentatively, she rested her hand on his right shoulder, rubbing small, comforting circles into his skin with her fingertips. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” she murmured. The Asset pressed himself fully against her, a firm wall of heat. She squeezed her eyes shut and rested her cheek against his chest, mumbling something comforting as she soothed him with her powers.

_ Contentment. _

His flesh arm snaked around her waist, clutching her closer to him. He pushed his head into the crook of her neck, sighing serenely into her soft skin. “что ты со мной сделал?,” He slurred warily, pulling away, eyes narrowed in distrust.

_ Suspicion. _

(Y/N) swallowed nervously, grasping his shoulder tightly and sending waves of calming energy through him. He held strong, pushing back against the tsunami of false emotions, but eventually he succumbed. He gave a full body shudder before he pressed against her once more. Tucking his head underneath her chin, his warm breath fanning across her neck. She pushed down the feeling of disgust at her actions, choosing instead to delicately wrap an arm around him. Not pulling him closer, nor pushing him away. Simply applying gentle pressure. The Asset shivered and moved closer, practically nuzzling into her collarbone.

The artificially tender moment was interrupted by the swathes of agents that burst into the room.

_ Fear. _

The Asset’s pulse skyrocketed, his gentle grip around her waist turning bruising. He clung to (Y/N) with desperation, lips pulled back in a vicious snarl.

“Встаньте,” The agents barked, guns held out in warning. The Asset growled lowly in response, protectively hiding (Y/N) from view. “солдат,” The agents warned.

(Y/N) tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but the Asset merely tightened his hold. “Soldat,” She whispered calmly, “let go, please.”

The Asset reluctantly pulled away, standing to his feet and obediently walking up to the agents. The agents fired off a few orders, and the majority of the guards filed out of the room. With the Asset following behind complacently.

With the Asset gone, the remaining agents turned to face her. “What did you do to it?” One of them snapped.

“I did what you said,” (Y/N) said emotionlessly, “I calmed him down.”

The agent sneered and backhanded her across the face. “You little bitch. Ruining Hydra’s efforts just for the fun of it. What did you do?”

She kept her face blank, remaining silent despite the verbal abuse.

“Take them back to their cell,” he addressed the agents, giving up on the interrogation. The guards pinned her arms to her sides and marched her through the base. The halls were mercifully silent compared to when she was brought to the Asset. Dark, dingy, grey, and quiet except for the loud footfalls of the agents.

They escorted her to her cell, tossing her in and slamming the door shut behind her. The cell was pitch black, but (Y/N) managed to sidestep the cot and expertly navigate to the back corner. She sank down to her knees, curling up against the wall as she cradled her head in her hands. She bit her lip to hold back tears, soft cries slipping through her teeth.

Guilt settled in the pit of her stomach. Cold and hard like a lump of metal. She felt dirty, wrong, like she violated him somehow. She didn’t fully understand Russian, but he had sounded confused, wary. Like he wasn’t used to being calm. Hell, like he wasn’t used to feeling emotion.

She curled further in on herself, wrapping her arms around her waist. A loud sob was ripped from her throat, but she swallowed it back down.

Many hours would pass before she was able to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> что ты со мной сделал?: What did you do to me?  
Встаньте: Stand up  
солдат: Soldier  
I don't know Russian, so please let me know if I made any mistakes. Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos give me life, so please leave one if you enjoyed!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Y/N) is shaken after the encounter with the Asset. But she is given no time to recover before she is thrown into another dangerous situation.

(Y/N)’s eyes slowly blinked open, her head pounding and throat aching. Dried tears stained her cheeks, which were puffy and red from all the crying. She carefully examined her neck with her fingers, a dull pain emanating from the tender flesh of her throat as she poked and prodded. She could only imagine her appearance. Throat dappled by bruises, dark purples and blues spreading across her skin like watercolors, ugly yellows and putrid greens tinting the edges. Hair terribly matted, eyes sunken in and dull, scars marring her features. Nothing like the fresh faced, young woman that was first brought into Hydra.

She slowly rose to her feet, legs shaking like a newborn deer as she leant against the concrete wall for support. Her eyes scanned over the dark cell, immediately noticing the tray of food discarded on the ground, its contents strewn across the floor. (Y/N) meticulously scraped the food off the ground, ensuring every scrap was accounted for before digging in. She swallowed down the gruel first—stifling a grimace at the viscous texture—before mopping up the congealed remnants with a stale piece of bread. The meat was gristly and practically inedible, but she ate it without complaint, washing everything down with the bottle of water.

She pushed the tray aside, rolled onto her back, and looked up at the ceiling contemplatively. Staring at the patterns of mildew and rot on the ceiling, tracing the familiar patches and swirls with her eyes. As she gazed upwards her thoughts began to wander, focusing inevitably on what happened mere hours ago. Guilt gripped her insides like an icy vice, squeezing and twisting, making her stomach churn. Disgust filled her as she reflected on what she’d done, how she’d manufactured something so…._ intimate. _ It had been so very long since someone was that gentle to her, and the fact that she’d forced it was just so disturbingly _ wrong _. She knew what it was like to be made to do something, despised it with every fibre of her being. And now look at her, the epitome of hypocrital.

Disgust led to fear. Fear of what was to happen to her. The agents had been mad, enraged by her actions. As to why, she did not know. She had followed their orders to a T, and yet they had punished her. Punished?--Hysterical laughter bubbled past her lips--She’d barely call that a punishment. The worst was yet to come, and she grew apprehensive as she awaited it. 

Time passed by in a murky blur as (Y/N) lay on the floor, passively awaiting her fate. She listened to the loud hammering of footsteps from just outside her cell, using the even beats to ground her and calm her racing heart. Eventually, the door was flung open. A shadowy man stood in the doorframe, a horde of agents at his heels.

The man was important, she could tell immediately. With neatly trimmed and parted hair, expensive clothes, haughty expression permanently plastered to his face. (Y/N) had seen him before. Watched as he rushed through the halls, old and tattered red book in hand. Always followed by a twisted entourage of agents.

“проницательность,” the man addressed her. She immediately jumped into position, having been trained to respond to handlers who spoke her title. “Follow.” She obediently fell in step behind the man, flanked on all sides by the agents. (Y/N) was marched down the dark and winding halls to some sort of operation room. It was bright and sterile, with uncanny fluorescent lighting. A stark contrast to the yellowed hues of the hallway lamps. The bitter scent of bleach tainted the air, stinging her nostrils with each breath. The room had few amenities, nothing more than an exam table, medical instruments, and beeping machinery.

“Sit,” The man ordered, the agents raising their guns as motivation. She hopped up onto the examination table, pointedly avoiding the man’s probing gaze. “You are a very interesting specimen,” the man mused. “Fascinating abilities. I would love to pick you apart.” (Y/N) stared at the fabric of her hospital gown, counting the stitching to help calm her nerves. “Such a shame that Hydra has not been using you to your full potential.”

(Y/N) nodded absentmindedly, passively observing the emotions of the man. _ Intrigue. Detachment. Scientific curiosity. _

“Think,” He turned towards the agents, “how useful they would be on the field. Always knowing if someone’s in a room, able to sway the enemy in our favor, able to incapacitate emotionally.” He looked back to (Y/N). “And yet, they’re trapped here. A living lie detector.” He grabbed her chin and forced her to make eye contact. “Do you know how many times we had to put the Asset through the machine after you got to it?”

(Y/N) shook her head, eyes wide and terrified. The inflection he had used on the word ‘machine’ was eerily prideful, almost reverent. Like how one would refer to a prized object or trophy, something to be worshipped and feared. (Y/N) felt a stab of pity for the Asset, which she quickly quashed down.

The man smiled a predatory grin, “three times. It’s been decades since we’ve had to break it so thoroughly.” Decades? Just how long had the Asset been here? “It takes a lot of effort to break its programming, and for that, I applaud you.”

She felt sick. She could practically feel the vomit rising up her throat, burning like acid.

“You’re going to be doing a lot of great things, проницательность,” he smiled, a vicious glint in his eyes. (Y/N) panicked as her body instinctively locked up, awaiting a command. “Lie down.” She obediently lay on the table, screaming inwardly as she raged against the conditioning ingrained in her psyche. But it was of no use. The guards restrained her to the table with thick leather straps, she couldn’t even move an inch. 

The glaring operating lights impeded her vision, the surrounding agents nothing more than shadowy blurs. Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over as she stared mutely up at the tiled ceiling.

“Karpov,” one of the agents turned to the man for instructions.

“Prepare her for the procedure,” Karpov ordered. The agents and scientists loomed overhead, staring down at her detachedly, not even a spark of guilt within them.

An IV was hooked up to her arm, pumping a mystery liquid into her bloodstream. She was vividly aware of the chemical cocktail as it traveled through her veins. Able to easily pinpoint the icy rush of the serum in her blood, the horrible chill of it as it moved through her heart. It wasn’t necessarily painful. Uncomfortable, yes. Strange, yes. But not painful.

Her muscles seized up as the serum overtook her system. As if the liquid in her veins had hardened into ice, freezing her in place. All of a sudden, the cold serum flowing through her blood grew burning hot. It was as if her blood was boiling, cooking her from the inside out. Her eyes rolled back inside her head as a pitiful whine slipped past her slack lips. Her muscles began to spasm and shake, her chest heaving with labored breaths. She strained against the restraints, the leather creaking and stretching ominously.

A scream was ripped from her chest as the agonizing liquid surged through her. Painful and explosive, incinerating her from within. She screamed until her throat was raw, lips cracked and bleeding, warm blood spilling down her chin. Her vision swam as she sank into unconsciousness, the pain being too much for her battered body to handle. The burning agony waned, and a relieved sob fell from her mouth as the darkness closed in fully. Sparing her from further torment.

* * * *

The pain was gone.

Not just the burning agony that had coursed through her veins. But all the aches and pains that had gathered over the years. She tentatively reached up to examine her neck, eyes widening in shock. The painful bruises were gone.

(Y/N) looked around the room she was in. She was back in a cell, but it wasn’t her own. It was newer, shinier, and fully reinforced. Metal where it was once concrete. The room was well lit, the fluorescent lights blaring continuously without a single flicker.

She sat up from the cot she was resting on, tossing away the thin white covers and exposing herself to the chill of the room. She stared down at her hands, marveling at the perfect skin. No scars, no calluses, no bruises, nothing. Even the pre-Hydra marks were wiped clean.

She stood to her feet, pacing back and forth as she looked over her skin. Panicking as she found nothing there, her skin perfect like a dolls.

“No, no, no,” she murmured frantically. Crossing her arms over her chest, shoulders hunching forward. 

“No, no, no!” Her voice grew in volume. They had taken the only remnants of her old life. The scar on her forehead from when she fell off her bike. The scar on her thumb from when she accidentally cut herself while making a sandwich. The mark on her foot from when she had stepped on a piece of glass. All of them gone, wiped away forever.

Her legs grew weak from the panic, and she collapsed onto the cot, clutching the metal frame in her fingers. She froze in shock as the metal bent beneath her hands, jumping up and staring slack jawed at the finger sized indents in the metal frame. The metal had bent easily, yielding like warm butter beneath her deceivingly strong fingers.

The door slid open, revealing the man—Karpov—and an even greater amount of agents than before. With even a few scientists standing behind him. Karpov smiled widely, eyes sparking with terrifying glee.

“It worked,” Karpov announced, turning to face the agents, “The serum dilution was just as effective.”

(Y/N) watched in confusion as Karpov listed off several scientific phrases and terms. The scientists obediently writing his words down on their clipboards.

Karpov turned back around to look at (Y/N), “You, Insight, are going to revive the winter soldier program. проницательность, stay still” his lips pulled back in a sinister smirk as he watched her obediently freeze up.

Terror and fear overwhelmed her as one of the scientists plunged a syringe into her arm. The limb grew heavy and weighted, but she retained consciousness, the sedative not being enough to send her under.

This result seemed to only excite Karpov more, “give them the Asset’s dosage.” A scientist came forward with a noticeably larger syringe, which they injected into her other arm.

That seemed to do the trick. Immediately her vision grew distorted, her mouth going dry like cotton as the drug took effect. Her mind went fuzzy and she struggled to think. Her thoughts spiraling down into darkness, emotions taking the forefront.

Apprehension. Apprehension of what would occur in the program. Apprehension of what would become of her.

Misery. Misery for the last connection to her old life being severed. Misery for the pain and anguish she had experienced.

Fear. Fear of what had happened to her. Fear of the newfound abilities that had been forced upon her. Fear that she would lose herself, like how she suspected the Asset had.

Her eyes fell shut. And the last thing she saw before she fell unconscious was the ghostly image of blank, icy blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> проницательность: Insight
> 
> I don't speak Russian, so please let me know if I made any mistakes! Thank you for reading! Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoyed!


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The remaking of (Y/N) (Y/L/N) has begun. Will her sense of self survive the process?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the support for this story! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Dark red blood splattered across the concrete floor. (Y/N) coughed and sputtered as blood bubbled up her throat, spitting out red mucus and saliva onto the ground. She slowly and painfully rose to her feet. Hissing in pain and clutching a hand to her ribs, wincing at the unnatural grating of her broken bones.

She was in a long, dimly lit hall, lined by empty cells and metal bars, fluorescent lights flickering overhead. A metal gate and singular pane of reinforced glass trapped her in one small section of the hall, the stairway to the outside tantalizingly out of reach. But she couldn’t escape if she tried. Guards were posted every few feet, fully decked out in protective gear, fingers curled around the trigger of their rifles. Several scientists stood behind them, jotting down notes on their clipboards, eyes darting nervously around the room. Something horrible must have happened for them to be so paranoid.

(Y/N) squeezed her eyes shut, groaning through clenched teeth as she felt her bones knit together. Her accelerated healing already taking effect. The blood dribbling from her split forehead congealed and scabbed over, not even a scar would remain.

“Again,” Karpov ordered from the corner, crossing his arms over his chest. (Y/N) shuddered in fearful anticipation, locking eyes with the man she had been forced to fight.

The Asset.

She had been hesitant to fight him at first, unable to forget the vulnerability he had shown before. That naïveté was quashed when she looked into his eyes. Blank, devoid of awareness and emotion, not a single spark of recognition when he stared at her. She had discreetly reached out to him with her powers, recoiling in thinly veiled disgust when she connected.

_ Nothing. _

An empty void where a person should be, a sensation she had never felt before. The blankness emanated out of him in a spine chilling aura, numbing tendrils reaching out towards her. It was terrifying. Horrifyingly wrong. And despite him attacking her without mercy, she couldn’t push away the pity she felt for him.

They had been fighting for hours, and yet there was not a single scratch or bruise on him. In fact, he hadn’t even broken a sweat. His fists were stained with her blood, leather tac suit completely soaked with it, crusted red blood blending in with the star painted on his prosthetic. Her strength paralleled his—maybe even exceeded it in some aspects—but her lack of training was her ultimate downfall, she couldn’t land a single hit on him. Her punches were too wide and unbalanced, and he dodged them easily, his tall and broad frame deceivingly graceful as he ducked and weaved. She would’ve used her powers, but the agents had thoroughly threatened her beforehand. Ensuring that she wouldn’t even attempt to use them.

She barely had time to bring her hands up in a protective stance before the fight began. A metal fist slammed into her exposed rib cage, a loud fleshy snap sounding upon impact. (Y/N) choked on the blood rising up her throat, stumbling back with a sharp cry. The Asset darted forward and dealt a fierce uppercut, simultaneously slamming his knee into her stomach. Her head was thrown back from the blow, blood and spittle flying past her lips as she gasped for breath. She attempted to dodge to the right, but was interrupted by a swift kick to the side. She doubled over, struggling to draw in breath, unintentionally exposing her back to the assassin. He took the opening and slammed his full weight against her spine, sending her to the floor as her legs collapsed beneath her.

(Y/N) curled in on herself, desperately trying to shield her head and stomach from the blows the Asset mercilessly rained down on her. She shook and cried out in pain as she endured the assault, spitting up bile as the Asset kicked at her with brutal force.

“Стоп,” Karpov ordered the Asset. The assassin immediately stepped back, allowing himself to be poked and prodded by the scientists.

(Y/N) whimpered as she was forcibly dragged to the side, propped up against the wall like a doll. The scientists circled around her, nervously flitting about as if they expected her to lash out at any moment. Blood samples, concussion tests, saliva swatches, she sat through countless tests, unaware of anything in her pain filled haze.

“это может пойти снова?” Karpov asked the scientists. (Y/N)’s serum enhanced memory helped her translate, “can it go again?” She suppressed a sob at the callous words, hating how she was demeaned to such an extent that she was seen as an object. A tool.

“скоро,” a scientist answered, “soon.”

(Y/N) weakly shook her head in protest. She couldn’t handle another round. Her ribs were on fire, she was light headed from blood loss, everything ached. Not that anyone cared, they’d make her fight until she collapsed. And then they’d make her fight some more. She was allotted five minutes for her major injuries to heal, and then she was forced back to her feet.

“Again.”

* * * *

Guns. Loud, deadly, and absolutely necessary in her training.

Assembling was simple. The parts fit together intuitively, like a puzzle. You just needed to know the proper steps, and then you could take apart and put together almost anything. Snipers, automatics, submachine, assault, anything. Simple and easy. Almost fun, in some strange, twisted way.

The real problem, was shooting.

The concept was easy enough to understand. She had the stance down, aiming, the simple action of pulling the trigger and reloading. All the technicalities down pat.

And yet…

“Fire,” the Asset ordered.

(Y/N) took a deep breath, tightened her grip on the Glock 17, and fired. The recoil jolting the gun in her hands despite her steady grip. She glanced up at the target and scowled, the bullet had hit slightly off the mark. The person shaped target (Y/N) was aiming at was riddled with bullet holes, evidence of the countless hours and days spent practicing. But each one was slightly off kilter. A bit to the left or right, too high or too low. Never perfect.

The Asset raised a brow, assessing what she had done wrong, before approaching. He grabbed her wrists and roughly adjusted her stance and positioning, posing her as if she were a mannequin.

“Fire.”

She pulled the trigger. Closer this time, but still not perfect.

More positioning.

“Fire.”

Not perfect.

“Fire.”

Not perfect.

“Fire.”

Not perfect.

It was endless. She could never hit exactly where she intended, much to her frustration. Despite her repeated failures, the Asset remained emotionless. A spark of exasperation ignited in him every now and then, but it would be extinguished seconds later, as if it was never there in the first place.

She reloaded the gun, pulling back the slide and firing round after round into the target. The crisp staccato of gunshots echoing throughout the gun range.

“Off center.” “Not fatal.” “Sloppy.” The Asset critiqued bluntly, giving a bare bones assessment of what she’d done wrong.

She grit her teeth in silent annoyance. Anger bubbling and seething beneath the surface, threatening to burst. She quickly swallowed the rage back down, exhaling hotly as sweat dripped down her brow. Her emotions had been more out of control lately, less tethered than before. A sort of restlessness had taken over her, compelling her to grab someone and beat them into a bloody pulp. It was unbearable. It felt as if bugs were crawling beneath her skin, like electricity was running through her veins, like needles were pricking into her flesh.

It was off putting, to not be in control of something so intrinsic to her identity. She was an empath, for fuck’s sake! Controlling emotions was her forte! And yet, when she was even mildly inconvenienced, she felt as if she was about to riot.

“Fire.”

Not perfect.

“Fire.”

Not perfect.

“Fire.”

Not perfect.

She gripped the handle until her knuckles went white, jaw ticking in irritation. At this point she had spent hours, maybe even days, practicing her shooting skills, and she still couldn’t perfect it. It was beyond aggravating. She could feel what little control she had over her emotions chip away everytime the Asset huffed in impatience, or each time the bullet was only a centimeter off. 

She was furious at herself, things would be easier if she would just get over her pesky moral scruples and shoot. 

But she couldn’t. 

She couldn’t help but picture a real person standing at the end of the barrel, something that she knew was inevitable. Could she take a life? She had watched people die in front of her many times before, but she was never the one to do it. Never the one to take the gun and squeeze the trigger. 

“Fire.”

Not perfect.

* * * *

“Again,” Karpov ordered.

She was back in the training hall, forced to fight against the Asset for what felt like the millionth time. But this time was different from the first.

Months of rigorous training had honed her skills, making it so she actually stood a chance against him. It was no longer a one sided fight that lasted barely a minute, with her always losing terribly. But a lengthy brawl, where the outcome was unknown until the dust cleared. She had yet to win a single fight against the assassin, but she knew that she was coming close. Could feel it in her aching bones.

She bounced on her heels, hands held up in a proper defensive stance, ready for an attack. The Asset aimed a hit at her skull, but she managed to dodge the blow, his fist barely clipping her head. She grimaced as a sharp pain exploded across her skull, but she shook it off, ducking down and jabbing her elbow into the Assets side. The two traded hits for a while, both equally matched. 

Sweat dripped down (Y/N)’s neck, her hair sticking to her wet forehead. The assassin was sweating as well, his hair wet and stringy as it plastered to his face. She stepped out of reach, taking a second to rest and recover. A few seconds passed as they both waited for someone to make a move, muscles tensed in wait. 

The rage that bubbled beneath her skin threatened to break free. The beast that dwelled within her was growing stronger as she fought, drunk off of bloodlust. She loosened the reins, allowing herself to release some of the ferocity.

The Asset was the one who moved first, much to (Y/N)’s twisted delight. He threw a sharp punch with his metal arm, attempting to break through her defensive stance. (Y/N) dodged and countered the blow, grabbing onto his prosthetic and wrenching it painfully back. Simultaneously blocking a hit from his other arm. She had learned long ago that his metal arm was designed to be extremely powerful. What was sacrificed for the power, however, was balance. The arm was heavy and unwieldy, and if she maneuvered it just right....

She yanked the prosthetic down and to the side, the assassin losing his balance for just a moment as the heavy arm dragged him closer to the ground. A moment was all she needed. Turning so that her back was placed against his chest, she grabbed onto the unwieldy arm and pulled, throwing him over her back and down to her feet.

The Asset attempted to stand upright, but (Y/N) cut him off with a swift kick to the head, sending him sprawling out on the ground. Not sparing a single moment, she pinned him to the ground, hand wrapped around his throat so he wouldn’t try to get up. Her nails cut into his neck, carving crescent-shaped indents in his skin, droplets of blood beading at her fingertips. 

“хороший,” Karpov said tonelessly, ordering a scientist to check her vitals. She stood attentively as the scientists took what they needed, mind reeling as she contemplated the first emotion the Asset had felt in her presence in a long while.

_ Grudging respect. _

* * * *

Everything hurt.

The woman had been cutting into her for hours now, drilling in the same message over and over as she sliced into her skin.

“Insight shows no mercy.” Another gash.

“Humanity is a weakness.” The knife twists into her gut.

“Disobedience is punished.” A knife stabbed into her thigh.

Time melted into a pain filled blur, until she was finally released from her restraints and allowed to leave. Blood still flowing from her wounds, flesh only just beginning to knit together.

“Same time tomorrow,” the woman joked cruelly, a sinister twist to her lips that might be interpreted as a smile. The guards came in and dragged (Y/N) back to the training room, where the Asset was waiting for her. Then they began to spar, and then target practice, and then weapons training, and a million other things she had lost track of.

And if she got blood all over the equipment, he didn’t say a word of complaint. Or anything at all.

* * * *

She must be quiet.

Her breathing is regulated, steps calculated to be as silent as possible, mindful of her shadow so her position isn’t prematurely revealed. There were so many aspects to stealth. So many miniscule details that must be constantly maintained to keep ones cover.

She had learned to be quiet. It had taken days, weeks, months—_ How long had she been here. How long had she been here. How long _ _ — _until she got even close to mastering it.

She was good.

But the Asset was better. 

She sneaked through the convoluted maze with practiced precision, footsteps soft and even as she navigated through the corridors. She knew it was pointless, knew that there was no escape from the maze, knew that the game only ended when she was caught. But she still tried. Because she also knew that giving up would lead to punishment, she learned that the hard way.

Tentatively, she reached out with her powers. Gauging the Asset’s distance based on the proximity of his emotionless aura. He was getting close, much too close for her liking.

She quickened her pace, making sure she was just as silent as before. Exhaustion had settled deep in her bones, her eyelids drooping and struggling to remain open. Time was meaningless in the perpetually lit maze. She could’ve been there for mere minutes, hours, maybe even days. But she knew that—

She woke up. Head snapping back up from where it had slumped over, rousing her from sleep. She blinked confusedly, swaying from side to side before she regained balance. What had just happened?

_ Microsleep. _Her brain supplied. She must’ve been awake for days at this point. She was dead on her feet, she couldn’t even comprehend how the Asset was still standing.

Oh God, the Asset.

She sprinted, not even caring if she was making sound. There was no use being stealthy anymore, he knew where she was. The few seconds she spent asleep, completely immobile, were enough for him to locate her.

The loud footfalls behind her only proved her theory, he was chasing after her. She took in deep lungfuls of air, turning around sharp corners at fast speeds, trying and failing to lose him.

Slowly but surely, he was gaining on her. She could hear his quick pants, the whirring of his mechanical prosthetic as he pumped his arms. She threw herself forward, trying to put a even just a little more distance between them. But it was of no use.

The Asset dove forward and tackled her to the ground. Pinning her to the floor with his full weight, pushing her front into the hard concrete.

“Fifty one hours and thirty seven minutes,” he said blankly, pulling her to her feet and escorting her to the now opened exit.

She smiled tightly, a new record.

* * * *

“Insight shows no mercy.” 

“Humanity is a weakness.” 

“Disobedience is punished.”

She was repeating the mantras in her sleep.

* * * *

Insight gripped the knife's handle in its hands, pulling back its arm and aiming at the center of the target. With a graceful flourish, Insight sent the knife hurtling across the room, the knife landing perfectly in the center. Bullseye.

The Asset grunted in acknowledgement, but he still found something to critique “snap the wrist more.”

Insight scoffed annoyedly, retrieving the knife from the target board before posing to throw again.

Knife throwing was something (Y/N) was good at. It was easier for her to perform well when the target was circular rather than humanoid.

(Y/N) raised her arm, eyeballed the target, and threw the knife in a graceful arc. Landing perfectly in the center once more.

I̴̧̨̡̨̘͇̼̬̙̥̱̓̌̈́͑̃ͅn̷̗͚̠͚͔̮͈̘̹͎̘̭̯̓̒͊̊̇͠͝s̶̮̘͚̥̣͗̂̓̕ĭ̸̗͋̍̐̑̽͗̐̈́̋ģ̸̦̜͓͚͚̟͔̖̟̮̱̦̌̾̄̈́͘͠ȟ̸̹̙̝͔̳̥͙̈́̈͂̆͒̕̕t̴͓͖̘͇͈͎̱͉̺̅̒̂̒͒̕ was good at its job. 

(Y/N) was good at her job.

e̸̤̫̿͂͜v̶͚̏̏̾e̷͚̭̮̽̈́r̶̥̾y̷̮͂́͗ẗ̵̠̺́̕ͅẖ̴͉̩̊͗̚i̶͈͊n̴͇̔g̵̘͌̀ ̶̨̰̒́͠w̸̫̼͗ą̵͍̑͒s̴̘̪̖̈͝ ̴̺̩͈͑ȧ̴̪̖̘͌s̵̲̝̟̓̈́ ̸͈̊̉͆i̵̲̔̕ṫ̷͇̭̺̿ ̴̦̊́s̶͍̾̌h̴̙͂͋o̵̳͊û̶̪̥̩l̵̯̈̐͝d̷͙̬̘̑ ̸̧̙̮͗b̵̡̻͓͝e̸͕̍̃͜ ̶̝̪̫

* * * *

There was a new phrase in the mantra.

“Insight shows no mercy.” The woman hacked a chunk out of her arm.

“Humanity is a weakness.” A thin line cut across the tender skin of her neck.

“Disobedience is punished.” A knife stabbed into her ribs.

“Compliance is rewarded.” A moment of respite. A drink of water. Bandages on her wounds.

(Y/N) liked the new phrase.

* * * *

“It’s nearly ready,” Karpov said to the other man. (Y/N) remained silent, listening as the two men talked with one another as if she weren’t there. Watching as they sat at a conference table, delicately sipping from glasses of champagne as they discussed business. Her back ramrod straight and arms held stiffly by her sides. Motionless, out of the way, displayed like a slab of meat to be sold. She had gotten used to being seen as nothing but an object, it was easy to ignore at this point.

“Good. I am glad to see that you are recovering from all previous setbacks.” The other man answered. “I was afraid I would have to cancel the program.” (Y/N) had never seen him before. He was American, with reddish brown hair and a squared, wrinkled face. He carried himself similarly to Karpov, with an air of superiority and importance. (Y/N) didn’t like him much.

“As was I, Secretary Pierce,” Karpov answered, voice as slick and slimy as oil.

“Do you truly believe that it will be able to aid us in our goals? After all, it’s been little more than a year since you’ve begun to perfect it’s skills,” Pierce said dispassionately, eyebrow raised in mocking curiosity. “I doubt much could be accomplished in such a short amount of time."

Karpov pressed his lips into a thin line. “Insight has been trained to be the best, by the best. I assure you that it can get the job done.”

“Isn’t it risky to send it out onto the field without the use of the machine?” Pierce asked dully.

“Insight needs full access to its emotions in order to function at its highest capacity. The ‘erase it all’ strategy won’t work with Insight, at least not yet,” Karpov answered, a wry smile on his lips, “besides, it has been serving Hydra for almost a decade without incident."

(Y/N)’s mouth went dry. A decade. A decade spent away from the outside, a decade without the sun on her face, a decade spent trapped in the lion's den. 

“If you’ll give me a chance to prove its loyalty,” Karpov nodded at one of the guards, motioning for him to leave the room. The guard obediently filed out, returning moments later with a young girl.

The girl was dressed in a grimy hospital gown, stained with blood and other unpleasant fluids. Her sallow skin was mottled with bruises, her thin wrists scabbed and bloody as if she had been restrained many times before. A black bag was pulled over her head, the thick fabric muffling her terror filled sobs. Her hands were stuck behind her back with handcuffs, the metal cutting into her already abused skin.

The guard pushed her forward, the blinded girl tripping and collapsing to the floor. Falling right in front of (Y/N)’s feet.

The girl floundered for a moment, her cries for help ignored as she struggled to gain her bearings. She eventually managed to rise to her knees, whimpering and sniffling in confusion.

(Y/N) glanced at the two men, feigning disinterest as she stared at them. Simultaneously fighting off the anger and fearful apprehension that flared within her.

The guard held out his handgun to (Y/N), and she gingerly took it in her hands. Lazily checking the gun to make sure it was loaded, all the while praying that the slight shaking of her fingers went unnoticed. Using the simple routine of checking and double checking the chamber to calm her nerves.

“Insight,” Karpov ordered, “fire.”

(Y/N) slowly and hesitantly brought the gun to the girls head, pressing the barrel against her brow. “No, please!” The girl pleaded desperately, “please, I want to live!” (Y/N) swallowed thickly, blinking rapidly as she battled with herself. She saw herself in this terrified girl, saw the fear and desire to survive. Empathized with the bruises, and starvation, and the rings of cuts around her wrists. Both self inflicted and not.

“Insight,” Karpov said warningly, eyes flicking over to the unimpressed Secretary Pierce.

“Please,” The girl whispered desperately.

(Y/N) took a deep breath, slowly withdrawing the gun and pointing it towards the floor, away from the girl.

“Thank you,” the girl cried.

Karpov was seething, Pierce was less than pleased. “Well—“ Pierce began, but he didn’t have time to finish.

Lightning fast, (Y/N) raised the gun and fired. The room was completely silent as the girl went limp and hit the ground with a thud. Dead before she even hit the floor. The fist sized hole in her head dripping with blood, visceral chunks of flesh sprayed across the floor.

_ Mercy kill _. (Y/N) rationalized. 

If she hadn’t done as she was told, both of them would have been punished. Horribly.

It was better this way. 

The girl was just like her. 

Exactly like her. 

And all (Y/N) wanted was to die. 

She was doing them both a favor. 

_ Mercy kill. _

She was barely aware of the two men’s conversation, choosing instead to stare blankly at the limp body of the girl.

_ Mercy kill. _

_ Mercy kill. _

_ Mercy kill. _

She repeated the thought until she actually believed it.

* * * *

“Fire,” The Asset ordered.

(Y/N) adjusted her grip on the handle of the gun, wrapped her finger around the trigger, and pulled.

“Good,” the Asset complimented gruffly.

Perfect shot.

* * * *

“It’s ready, send it out.”

“But sir, what if it tries to escape?”

“Have the Asset accompany it. They’re going to be working with each other for a while, might as well get comfortable.”

“Yes, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Стоп: Stop  
хороший: Good
> 
> I don't speak Russian, so please let me know if I made any mistakes. Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time begins to pass. And (Y/N) must adjust to their new way of life. But the Asset is there every step of the way, for better or for worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I feel about this chapter. There are moments I like, and others...not so much. Either way, hope you enjoy!
> 
> Oh, and you'll need this for later. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xZbKHDPPrrc

_ Target neutralized. _

_ Moving to extraction point. _

The journalist was dead before they even knew what happened, suffocated in their sleep with their own pillow. Poor dear, sticking their nose where it didn’t belong. Curiosity had killed the cat, but there was no satisfaction to bring it back.

The streets of Paris were beautiful at night, (Y/N) noticed. Once upon a time she would’ve stopped to admire the sights, but not now. She kept her head down, avoiding security cameras, staying away from crowds, sticking to the back alleys and roads. And yet, (Y/N) couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. 

It wasn’t paranoia, though.

They were always watching. Lurking in the shadows and the dark places where no one thinks to look. Her handler. The Asset was there to ensure that everything went to plan. To prevent (Y/N) from escaping. It was pointless, really.

She had no reason to escape. Why go through the trouble, if she would only be caught?

Regardless of the futility, the Asset was there. Just waiting for her to step out of line.

But she didn’t.

She arrived at the extraction point safely, a cheap apartment that had been chosen specifically for the mission. Unsurprisingly, the Asset was there before her. Standing in the tiny kitchen with his arms crossed domineeringly, like a parent waiting for their child to return after curfew. Without saying a word, (Y/N) moved to sit down on the saggy patchwork couch, blatantly ignoring the assassin. She squeezed her eyes shut and rested her head against the back of the couch, trying in vain to forget how the woman looked after she had the life snuffed out of her.

She couldn’t.

But it got easier from there.

Easier to dissociate, to separate herself from what she was doing. The guilt weighed heavy, pressing down on her. Who was to blame for everything, herself or Hydra? 

She didn’t know anymore.

* * * *

One week was a long time to be awake. One week of constant surveillance. One week spent scoping out the office building, waiting for the perfect time to strike. Stealing short moments of precious sleep, hiding in out of the way places to avoid being caught. 

And it all culminated to this very moment. 

The parking garage they were camping in was dark and musty, but it served its purpose. The concrete walls provided cover, the darkness of the building helped them blend in. There were millions of tiny advantages that hid them from the view of any adjacent buildings. It was the perfect positioning for a sniper.

The Asset was staring down the scope of his sniper rifle, aiming at the CEO’s office in the adjacent building. (Y/N) lay beside him, waiting for the other agents to give the go ahead to shoot. Continuously flicking the radio channels off and on impatiently, anything to keep her mind alert and functioning. The only thing keeping her awake was the staticky rush of sound and sharp click of the switches.

The same couldn’t be said for the Asset. And although he didn’t say a word of complaint, she could sense the bone deep  _ exhaustion _ within him

“You’re jeopardizing the mission,” she said bluntly. That certainly got his attention. He turned to face her, eyes narrowed slightly, a small crease forming between his brows.

“Really,” he said dully, voice muffled by the mask covering his lower face.

“You are moments from collapsing,” she pointed out, eyebrows raised in a teasing manner, “You’re endangering the success of the mission.”

“I’ve worked under worse conditions,” he said dismissively, turning away.

“I’m not risking failure,” (Y/N) answered, reaching out and grasping his shoulder, wrapping him in a tiring aura so that he’d get the sleep he needed. It was strangely hilarious as his whole body went limp, head smacking against the concrete as he immediately fell unconscious. (Y/N) pried the rifle from his loose fingers, pushing him aside in order to assume his previous position. She peered through the scope, aiming at the balding head of the CEO as they sat at their desk. 

Hours passed this way, the Asset slumbering undisturbed throughout. He looked almost peaceful, face clear of stress and worry. It made her think of who he may have been before. Because when the blank mask slipped off in sleep, he didn’t have the face of a killer, but of a regular man. The type that had friends and family who loved them. What had happened to him? How did he get here?

A sudden radio transmission interrupted her thoughts, “Insight, Asset. This is Agent 18. How do you read, over.”

“Copy loud and clear, over,” (Y/N) answered.

“Status report, over.”

“Currently functioning, over,” (Y/N) responded. Neglecting to mention the passed out assassin beside her.

“Execute target, over.”

“Wilco, over,” (Y/N) acknowledged. Adjusting her grip, taking a deep breath, she squeezed the trigger. Watching as the CEO fell forward onto their desk, a puddle of blood pooling around the gunshot hole in their skull. “Target executed, over.”

“Move to extraction point, over.”

“Copy, over.” (Y/N) stretched out their aching limbs, barely suppressing the urge to yawn. She disassembled the rifle and placed it in its case, packing up all other supplies with quick efficiency. With everything filed away, she reached out and grabbed the Asset’s shoulder, retracting the exhaustion and bringing him back to consciousness.

He slowly blinked his eyes open, looking up at her confusedly, his expression shifting as he slowly recalled what had happened. “Rise and shine. Mission successful,” (Y/N) said before he could say anything, offering a hand to help him to his feet. He reluctantly grabbed her hand, allowing her to pull him up.

The Asset fixed her with an unimpressed glare, looking away with a tiny shake of his head. He could look annoyed all he wanted, but (Y/N) knew the truth. Though he’d never admit it, the fatigue that once weighed on him was gone.

* * * *

“I had it under control,” (Y/N) griped, glaring at the Asset as he forcibly pulled her behind a corner and into cover. Not that he could see her expression behind the mask and goggles she wore.

Clearing the rival base had proven to be more difficult than anticipated. The intel provided had underestimated the sheer number of guards remaining in the base, and (Y/N) had nearly blown the mission because of it. And though she was loath to admit it, if not for the Soldat’s intervention, she would’ve died. Which only served to anger her more. 

She didn’t appreciate how he undervalued her skills. How he always assumed her to be incapable of successfully completing the more complex missions. Dragging her away whenever things got difficult, having her behind him at all times, keeping her on a tight leash. It was infuriating. Stoking the rageful fire that burned perpetually within her.

The Asset threw her an unimpressed glance. And although he was wearing an identical pair of mask and goggles, she could sense the  _ exasperation _ he felt at her whining. He peered around the corner, braced his M4 carbine against his shoulder, and rapidly fired into the crowd of hostiles. The guards dropped like flies, the loud bursts of gunfire drowning out their shouts of terror. Discarded shells fell to the ground like raindrops, skittering across the tile. (Y/N) moved to cover his six, pulling out her trusty Glock 17 and taking out anyone who managed to avoid the bullets of the semi-automatic.

With the group now disposed of, the Asset slung the rifle over his shoulder and ducked back behind the corner. The Soldat motioned to (Y/N), and she obediently fell in line as he ran down the halls. Checking rooms and clearing them of any stragglers, picking off guards who roamed the hallways. They fell into an easy pattern, always knowing what move the other was about to make.

And yet, (Y/N) couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. Feeling the burning gaze of someone—or something—boring into her back. Reaching out with her abilities, she detected the unnerving presence, immediately jumping into action. “Stop,” (Y/N) ordered. The Asset froze immediately, fingers curled around the handle of his holstered gun. The two of them were completely silent, not even a rustle of fabric betraying their position. (Y/N) slowly and silently raised her gun, aiming purposefully at the distant ventilation shaft. The rounded barrel of a rifle poked out from between the vent slats, betraying the enemies position. The fluorescent lighting glinted off of the metallic muzzle, the very same muzzle that was aimed directly at the Asset’s skull.

The tense stand-off lasted several minutes. The two assassins standing rigidly like statues as they evaluated the situation. They were trapped in a stalemate. The hostile couldn’t fire without being killed in return. And (Y/N) couldn’t shoot without the Asset being disposed of, which would be less than ideal.

Glancing to the Asset, (Y/N) tilted her head to the left in reference to his prosthetic. He gave a slight nod in response, message received.

Painstakingly slow, (Y/N) tightened her finger around the trigger, the sudden click sounding like a cannon in the silent hall. Without missing a beat, the Soldat lowered himself to the floor and raised his metal arm protectively, blocking the responding bullet with his palm. Moments passed in tense silence, nothing. The enemy had been successfully terminated.

Breathing a sigh of relief, (Y/N) began to lower the gun, jumping to position when the sound of fast approaching footsteps reached her ears. More enemies were coming. Stepping protectively in front of the assassin, (Y/N) stared down the group of hostiles that rounded the corner. Her gun raised and eyes cold. With clean effectiveness, she fired straight through their sockets, so fast that the Asset didn’t even have time to stand up.

“You’re welcome,” (Y/N) said sardonically, reaching out a hand and helping the Soldat to his feet. 

_ Respect. _

(Y/N) smirked knowingly, motioning for the Asset to lead the way. He didn’t underestimate her from then on.

* * * *

Muscles numb and cold, joints stiff and unresponsive, bones aching and frozen. The tortuous chill still pervaded her senses, even after she was released from cryo. 

The guards at the new base she was transferred to were stricter and infinitely more impatient. Not that the agents at the old base were much better, far from it. (Y/N) was given no time to recover before she was forced to move. Her legs wobbled like a newborn deer as she stumbled and tripped down the unfamiliar halls. And she fell hilariously onto her face when she was shoved roughly into a dimly lit room.

It was all so eerily familiar. The scattered bodies, horrific destruction, the acidic mix of  _ rage  _ and  _ fear _ . 

They needed her to calm him down again.

Weakly rising to her feet, (Y/N) slowly turned to face the Asset. He was on his feet this time, swaying unsteadily from side to side. Skin coated in a fine sheen of sweat, chest heaving with uneven breaths, hair stringy and sticking to his brow. Nothing she hadn’t seen before.

What was different, though, was his eyes. Wide and watery, brimming with unrestrained emotion. So uncharacteristic that the inherent  _ wrongness _ of it sent chills down (Y/N)’s spine. Deep seated  _ panic  _ radiated off of him in pulsing waves. But you didn’t need to be an empath to tell, the primal terror that shone in his eyes was enough.

“Hey,” she said placatingly, hands held up in submission, “I’m not here to hurt you.” She sent out calming energies in an attempt to reduce his panic, but nothing took hold. Ever so slowly, she began to approach, incredibly aware of every twitch and movement of the compromised assassin.

“Who—” he struggled to speak, “who are you? Where—where am I?” An unfamiliar accent tinged his voice, and (Y/N) struggled to pinpoint it. American? Brooklyn, maybe?

“They call me Insight,” (Y/N) deflected, avoiding answering with her real name. “You need to breathe.”

“I—I can’t,” he gasped, “Am I—am I dying?”

(Y/N) swallowed nervously, inching closer and closer, waiting for when he’d inevitably lash out, “No, you’re not dying. You’re—” She couldn’t exactly say safe, could she. That would be a blatant lie. “—okay. You’re okay.”

“Did I—” he glanced at the corpses littered across the floor, “oh God, did I—”

This was strange, this was wrong. How could the assassin who killed without hesitation be the same terrified man standing before her now. “Look at me,” she said firmly. The man obeyed, wide doe like eyes locking onto hers, “good. Listen, you need to breathe. In four, hold seven, out eight.”

“I—” the swaying grew more intense, and suddenly his legs collapsed from beneath him. (Y/N) darted forward and hooked their arms under his shoulders, the two sinking to the ground in a tangle of limbs. (Y/N) gingerly arranged them so he could be comfortable, wrapping an arm around his waist and cradling his head against her chest. He was loose and pliable in her arms, shaking fervently like a leaf. He clutched onto her like a lifeline, arms tightened around her like a vice, metal arm pressing painfully against her side. 

She pitied him, empathized with his fear and panic. Calming him down was no longer about orders, it was about principle.

“Breathe with me, okay?” she asked, exaggerating the rise and fall of her chest. Using the skin-to-skin contact to send gentle waves of calm through him. The fear slowly subsided, his breathing evening out as the panic attack ended. And yet, his arms still remained wrapped around her, grip still tight and unrelenting.

Tentatively, (Y/N) carded her fingers through his hair, quietly singing a tune she remembered from long ago in an attempt to further calm him. 

“ _ When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, what will I be?  _

_ Will I be pretty, will I be rich? Here's what she said to me, _ ” the song was soft and soothing, a sharp contrast to everything around them. She couldn’t recall how she knew the lyrics. Couldn’t remember where she had heard the tune. But there it was, buried in the deep recesses of her memory, finally coming to the surface. 

“ _ Que será, será. Whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see. Que será, será. What will be, will be. _ ”

She glanced down to check on him, surprised to see him staring up at her lazily. His lips quirked upwards slightly in a smile, a signal for her to continue. 

“ _ When I grew up and fell in love. I asked my sweetheart, what lies ahead?  _

_ Will we have rainbows, day after day? Here's what my sweetheart said.  _

_ Que será, será. Whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see. Que será, será. What will be, will be. _ ” She slowly trailed off, absentmindedly humming the melody as she brushed the hair out of his face.

“You have a nice voice,” he complimented softly, shifting his grip ever so slightly so he could press against her more. His weight was heavy and comfortable, heat radiating off of him like a furnace. In the moment, it was easy to forget the horrible atrocities of the place they were in.

_ Contentment. Relaxation. Security. _

“Thank you,” she whispered gratefully in return, tucking his head beneath her chin. She tenderly sang the rest of the song, rocking gently back and forth to the even beat of the lyrics. Time passed in comfortable companionship, the atmosphere of the room calm and serene despite the destruction around them. After several minutes of careful contemplation, (Y/N) hesitantly opened her mouth to speak, “My name is—”

“Insight,” a group of guards interrupted her, barging into the room with guns drawn. (Y/N) curled protectively around the man, wincing slightly as his metal arm tightened instinctually around her. A growl rumbled in the man’s chest, and (Y/N) was reminded of just how dangerous he could be.

She grit her teeth in defiance, refusing to let them get to him.

“Insight,” an agent warned, threateningly pulling out a high voltage taser.

“Go away,” she growled.

“Проницательность,” an agent addressed her by her title. (Y/N) froze, the conditioning forcing her to await a command. The Soldat looked at her fearfully, eyes wide and frantic as he watched her freeze up. “Step away from the Asset.” Helplessly, (Y/N) stood to her feet and took several steps back. Trying to apologize to the man with her eyes.

One of the higher level agents gestured to the Asset, “wipe it.” They then turned to (Y/N), “and send that to reconditioning.” (Y/N) trembled in barely suppressed fear as the agents dragged her out of the room, feeling the Soldat’s desperate gaze burning into her back as she left.

* * * *

So this was it. 

The end of the road. 

(Y/N) had wished for death a thousand times over, but now that it was staring them in the face, they couldn’t help but be overtaken by an overwhelming urge to live. Admittedly, being engulfed by flames whilst trapped beneath rubble wasn’t the most painless way to go, so it was understandable that they were absolutely terrified. But that was besides the point.

At the very least, the Asset had escaped. It made sense that he had left (Y/N) behind. Trying to save them would waste precious mission time and result in the death of them both. (Y/N) couldn’t recall exactly why they cared so much for their partner’s wellbeing. But if they focused really hard, they could recall a soft melody and reassuring weight pressing against them. The memory was strangely out of focus and blurry, as if they had been made to forget. But it was comforting nonetheless.

So, for the final time, (Y/N) reflected on the only happy memories they had left. Floral perfume, loud joyous laughter, the soft feel of a goose down mattress, flashes of starry night skies and comets. Ending with, of course, the mysterious musical memory. Accepting their fate, (Y/N) closed their eyes for the last time.

Suddenly, the debris above them shifted. The concrete and rebar slowly being moved away bit by bit. Someone had come back for them. With the last of their waning strength, (Y/N) helped their anonymous savior, tossing aside metal and stone in a frenzy. Choking and coughing on the smoke that pooled in their lungs, eyes watering and burning from the heat and irritants, their protective mask and goggles long lost. 

(Y/N) gasped as the heavy weight of the rubble was lifted off their chest, coughing regretfully as their lungs filled with smoke. Their mysterious saviour was undeterred, grabbing them roughly by the collar and scooping them up into a fireman’s carry. Running to safety as if she weren’t even a hindering weight. (Y/N) could only squeeze their eyes shut as distant explosions sounded within the self destructing base, praying desperately that they’d make it out alive.

_ Determination. Fear. Desperation. _ A multitude of emotions flashed from within their saviour, each one quick and succinct, almost like one was glancing at a list.

Then (Y/N) felt a cool breeze on their burned skin. They had made it out, and not a moment too soon. A sudden jolt and wave of heat signalled the explosion, the base bursting into a fiery ball of flames. If their saviour had arrived even a second later, they both would have been incinerated. The force of the explosion sent their saviour flying forward, but they managed to keep their footing, continuing to run until they were a safe distance away from the destruction.

Their saviour deposited them gently onto the ground, cutting away at the tac suit which had stuck to their burnt skin and splashing bottled water onto (Y/N)’s face to clear their vision. (Y/N) blinked away the grimy tears, squinting as they tried to make out their blurred surroundings, but a sudden coughing fit interrupted their efforts. Leaving them doubled over in pain as they hacked and choked.

A heavy hand settled onto their back, helping them ride out the fit with the expertise of someone who’s done it many times before. Gasping for breath, (Y/N) glanced up to their saviour.

The Asset.

A small smile spread across their face, splitting their dry lips. “Thanks for coming back.”

Then they promptly passed out.

* * * *

The gunshot had embedded itself in the Asset’s shoulder, tearing through muscle and bone like tissue paper. “Stay still,” Insight reprimanded as they started sewing the wound closed, hands slick with the dark blood that gushed forth like a fountain. It was a miracle he was still alive, and if the extraction team didn’t hurry up, he might not be for much longer.

The Asset’s face was pale from blood loss, skin cold and clammy to the touch. But he sat on the crummy motel cot without complaint, staring blankly at the wall as he allowed Insight to stitch him up. The needle dove in and out, each tug of the string garnering a miniscule wince and quick flash of _ pain  _ from the assassin _ . _ The emotion was sharp and bitter, like spoiled coffee beans. 

With a final flourish, Insight finished stitching up the wound. They gently dabbed at the sutures with a wet towel, wiping away the dried blood and grime before pressing the cloth against the stitching. “Hold that there,” they ordered. The Soldat silently and obediently moved to apply pressure, grabbing the towel with his right hand and pushing down against the wound. 

Insight shrugged off the silence, long used to the assassin’s lack of emotion. They were applying butterfly stitches to a cut on his brow when he finally spoke. “That is unnecessary,” he said quietly, voice slightly slurred from hypovolemic shock, they almost didn’t believe that they heard him speak.

Insight raised a questioning brow, continuing to place the adhesives on his wounds. “Am I harming you?” They asked after several seconds of silence.

“No,” he answered simply. Eyes darting over to glance at them before returning to the wall.

“Then I see no reason to stop,” they said matter-of-factly, prodding gingerly at a bruise that cupped his jaw. Insight just barely noticed the way his stance relaxed. His spine slumping ever so slightly as he allowed himself to ease his constant vigilance and suspicions.

_ Trust. _

Insight smiled softly to themselves, reveling in how they managed to evoke a meaningful emotion. However suppressed and faint it may be.

* * * *

Rows upon rows of fresh faced girls in pointe shoes. Thick layers of makeup applied generously to hide the bruises. Light brushes of rouge and dashes of glitter to disguise the sallowness of their cheeks and the dullness of their eyes. Ribbons of silk and lace hiding the friction burns from the tightly fitted handcuffs.

Insight presided over them all, the Asset by their side. Training the girls to be the most skilled assassins of the upcoming century. Not many survived the program, their broken bodies dumped and incinerated unceremoniously when they failed. And those who did were the best of the best, the prima ballerinas.

There was one girl that caught Insight’s attention. Locks of flaming red hair, sparkling green eyes like emeralds. Despite the girl’s failing marks, Insight was able to see past the facade and spot the power and skill that the girl hid. Could see the fire in her eyes that had yet to be extinguished. Natalia was her name. A gem amongst the cluttered jewelry box of the institute.

The Asset had undoubtedly noticed the girl as well. The two of them disappearing for minutes if not hours on end, finding comfort and solace in one another. Returning with their eyes brighter and clearer than before.

Insight said nothing of their absences, it was not their place. But they knew that if the unconventional relationship was discovered, the punishment would be swift and brutal. And so, they took pity on the both of them. Making sure that their frequent rendezvous continued unnoticed. 

Natalia was observant, a natural born talent that Insight admired. She knew that Insight knew. And that attentiveness was what made her Insight’s favored pupil. And although Insight wasn’t supposed to have favorites, they couldn’t deny that the girl had managed to make an impression.

And so, just before the girls went to the showers, they pulled Natalia aside. Ducking into a secluded corner so that no one could see. They stared unblinkingly at Natalia, impressed that she didn’t falter under the scrutiny, her face schooled to one of nonchalance. With graceful skill, Insight slipped an unwrapped toffee into the girls hand, disguising the interaction as them checking on Natalia’s sprained wrist.

Natalia curled her fingers around the sweet, blinking up at Insight before turning away and walking towards the showers, acting as if nothing had happened. 

_ Gratitude _

That was the last Insight saw of her.

Insight and the Asset were suddenly whisked away days later. Natalia’s name falling reverently from the Soldier’s lips just before they forced him into the chair.

He never mentioned her again.

* * * *

Duck. Sidestep. Shoot.

Duck. Sidestep. Shoot.

Duck. Sidestep. Shoot.

It was easy to slip into the mindless pattern. The sequence ingrained into its mind, muscle memory at this point. But it couldn’t allow itself to rely on old habits. Especially now.

The easy rhythm that Insight and the Asset once had was disrupted by the wipe. The scientists of Hydra were paranoid, and had erased any and all memories the Asset had of Insight that occurred outside of missions. And sure, the Soldat may have remembered Insight’s fighting style. Remembered who stood where in the positioning. Remembered all the technicalities. But the little spark of trust and camaraderie was gone. It was annoying, and admittedly rather sad.

Insight missed their strange relationship. And although it was nothing like the romantic one that the Asset and Natalia had—Could it even be described as that? The situation didn’t exactly permit such a connection—it was still meaningful to Insight.

And now it was gone.

Not that Insight could dwell on that. It had missions. It had things to do. People to kill. Stuff to—

“Do I...know you?” The Asset asked suddenly, interrupting Insight’s thought process, their head tilted to the side questioningly. 

_ Confusion. Familiarity. Curiosity. _

Insight blinked, startled by the question and the accompanying emotions. “We work together,” Insight answered vaguely, peeking out of cover to fire at the distant hostiles.

Minutes passed in uncomfortable silence. “But there’s more,” the Soldat whispered, a quiet admission to themselves. Said so softly that Insight almost didn’t hear.

Insight stifled the spark of hope that ignited within it. “Yes, you could say that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I love reading your comments, so please leave some if you enjoyed!
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Проницательность: Insight


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A difficult mission is made harder by something completely unexpected, and Insight is left to fend for the both of them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the feedback on the last chapter. I've taken your critiques to heart, and I hope this installment is an improvement from the last chapter. Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoy!

It was surprisingly simple to regain the easy companionship between them. The trust just came easily, as if it were ingrained deep within the both of them. And Insight was glad that the two of them could rely on one another. 

There weren’t many that Insight could depend on, especially since Hydra wasn’t an organization known for its reliable and trustworthy members. Backstabbing and betrayal was commonplace in the never ending pursuit of power. And agents of any level were willing to put Insight—a mere tool—in danger for their own personal gain.

But not the Asset. He’d yet to betray Insight, and Insight certainly appreciated that.

While betrayal within the organization was commonplace, blatant laziness was just as typical, even more so in some cases. With agents leaving Insight and the Asset to pick up the slack on missions, knowing that they could simply blame them if anything went wrong. They’d be believed, no matter how ridiculous the excuse. It’s not like anyone would ask for the Asset’s or Insight’s perspective. Why would they even care? It was easier just to rough the both of them up a little and proclaim the problem solved.

Now was one of those times, the agents choosing to shirk their roles in favor of watching safely from a distance. And honestly, Insight could hardly blame them.

Three targets; a high ranking foreign dignitary, his military wife, and their teenage son. Housed in a sprawling three story mansion with a high tech security system, patrolling guards with slavering dogs at their heels, and constantly filming cameras with minimal blind spots, if any. These people were certainly paranoid, and they had every right to be, considering that they were on Hydra’s hit list.

Simply getting in was a monumental task, taking every modicum of skill and ingenuity Insight had. The pair stealthily made their way past the gates and into the mansion’s walls. Making use of every small hiding spot and shadow, using the cover of the night to their advantage, moving from blindspot to blindspot with perfect precision. They incapacitated guards as needed, hiding the bodies in bushes and small crevices to avoid raising suspicion. 

It was times like these where Insight’s abilities came in handy, allowing it to detect approaching guards based off their emotional auras.  _ Alertness. Loyalty. Impassiveness.  _ The mix of emotions was dry and stale, with a tangy aftertaste of copper and gunpowder. The taste weighed heavily on Insight’s tongue, the scent cloying it’s nostrils as guards patrolled the area.

Slowly but surely, the pair made their way inside the mansion’s walls. Entering undetected through a window on the first floor--After disabling the alarm, of course--and stepping into one of many extravagant dining rooms. The two of them taking a quick moment to rest and strategize.

The stakes had risen significantly. Less guards, more cameras. Less cover, more shadows. A constant fluctuation of advantages and disadvantages that needed to be kept track of. It was exhausting, but rigorous training made it so that Insight could do so with ease. Insight looked to the Asset, waiting patiently for his instructions. A few seconds passed as he formulated a plan, and with a few quick hand signals he conveyed his chosen strategy. Insight nodded curtly in response, separating from him in order to locate the teenager’s bedroom as it was instructed.

With graceful skill, Insight crept through the rest of the house. Ducking behind furniture and treading with light footsteps to avoid detection, making sure to always stay just outside the camera’s peripherals. It blended into the inky shadows perfectly, invisible except for the glint of light shining off of its reflective goggles. 

Insight slowly snuck into the open living room, the spiraling staircase that led to the second and third floors just within reach. It scanned over the room, taking note of the expensive couch and coffee table, as well as the many abstract statues that it could hide behind if needed. Despite the more pressing matters at hand, Insight’s gaze locked onto the inconspicuous T.V. mounted on the wall. 

The television in question was slim, a little more than an inch thick with around forty inches of screen size. (A little much, in Insight’s opinion.) The T.V. was familiar, yet foreign, and Insight couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. Suddenly, an image flashed before Insight’s eyes. A memory of a blocky and well worn television set with wooden paneling and long metal antennae, with clunky knobs that stuck whenever you tried to turn them. Hours were spent sitting in front of the thing, watching new episodes of colorful shows. What was the name of one of them? Wasn’t it--

No. Insight didn’t have the time to be distracted by such ridiculous things. Shaking its head, Insight turned away from the television, gritting its teeth to ignore the anger and irritation that constantly stewed within it--an unwelcome side effect of the serum--and moving forward. 

Insight slinked across the carpeted floor, darting from cover to cover, waiting with bated breath for the wailing of klaxons. But no alarms sounded, and Insight continued its path uninterrupted. Gradually, it made its way to the third floor, padding silently down the long, picture frame lined hall like a panther. It cautiously entered the teenager’s room, quietly drawing its gun and aiming at the bed in the corner. It carefully eyed the person shaped lump beneath the covers before closing the door behind it.

Band posters decorated the walls; Slipknot, Guns N’ Roses, Nirvana. Names and faces that Insight had never seen nor heard of, all dressed in unfamiliar fashions and styles. The yellowed tape peeled off the walls, revealing older posters hidden beneath. All water stained and wrinkled with time. 

Polaroid pictures were tacked to the walls as well, all tasteless photos of the young target. Throwing up the sign of the horns, a twisted yet joyful expression on his face. Flipping off the photographer with his tongue sticking out, arm wrapped around a short, heavily tattooed girl. Sandwiched in a large group of unruly boys, posing similarly with wide smiles. All very typical of the average teen’s lifestyle.

What was atypical--at least in this instance--was the large Captain America poster hung just above the bed. Maybe it had been put there ironically, or perhaps it was a remnant from the boy’s childhood. Either way, it was there. The Captain giving a cheesy salute with his famous patriotic shield at his side, a random phrase of propaganda written across the top in bolded red font. The winged cowl was off, showing his widely grinning face and tousled blond locks. Eyes twinkling with merriment, the bright sparkling disguising the boredom and despair hidden in them. It was rather creepy, in a wholesome sort of way.

Insight glanced up at the ceiling, smirking slightly behind its mask as it looked at the blanket draped over the security camera. It noted as well the cold draft that swept through the room, the wind blowing in through the opened window. With a theory in mind, Insight moved to the bed and tossed back the covers, revealing a strategically placed pile of pillows shaped as a person. The teen must have snuck off in the middle of the night, probably bribing the guards to allow him to leave unnoticed. Funny to think how petty teenage rebellion had saved his life, for now.

They’d have to find the teen later, either to finish the job or to stall his return to the house. Maybe they could even frame him for the murders. But those thoughts could come later. Right then, Insight needed to begin searching the house for documents. Insight carefully combed through the room. Rummaging through drawers, peeking beneath floorboards, searching through the closet. It even checked under the bed, despite the hiding place being obvious and  clichéd. Unsurprisingly, it found nothing. However, it did manage to find and disable the hidden mics throughout the room, meaning that it could talk freely if needed.

Every once and awhile a guard would patrol past the room, making Insight tense up as it sensed them pass by. But the guards never even bothered to peek in, simply walking on by without a care in the world. The bribes given by the boy must’ve been rather generous. 

Insight was scouring through one of the many dresser drawers when it sensed him, the Asset, standing just a few feet behind it. He was the only one who could sneak up on it. He had had much more success than Insight, if the muted metallic scent of blood was any answer. 

Insight gestured at the covered camera and disabled mic on the dresser, effectively communicating its point. “The boy had snuck out beforehand,” Insight informed the Soldat, although he had likely gathered that from the numerous clues scattered throughout the room. “Did you find anything?”

He shook his head,  _ annoyance  _ radiating off of him in bitter waves. He turned away from the dresser in a huff, intending to look around the room, but he paused. Tensing up minisculely as he stood frozen in place.

Insight looked up from the dresser, glancing worryingly over to the Asset. He was staring intently at the Captain America poster, and although his face was hidden behind a pair of mask and goggles, Insight could sense the melting pot of emotions bubbling within him. 

_ Confusion. Familiarity. Panic. Connection. Anger. _

His fists clenched and unclenched, metal arm whirring mechanically as the plates shifted. Insight stood frozen, knowing that any wrong move could result in him lashing out.

** _Confusion. Familiarity. Panic. Connection. Anger._ **

He walked towards the poster seemingly in a haze, s tance rigid and hostile, brow wrinkled in thought as his gaze bored into the paper. His e motions built up in a roaring crescendo, gathering like dark storm clouds. Like the sea pulling back just before a tsunami.

The turmoil within him was great, mixing and churning like watercolors. Contrasting hues and pigments blending together in a twisted dance of spiraling colors.

** _CONFUSION. FAMILIARITY. PANIC. CONNECTION. ANGER._ **

The orchestra reached its monumental peak, the wave crashed to shore, the lightning bolt struck the earth. The ticking time bomb of emotions exploded in a phenomenal display of rage and disorientation.

What specific emotion had triggered the outburst? Was it the overwhelming confusion or the all consuming panic? The foreign feeling of familiarity and connection, or the burning anger? Perhaps it was a potent mix of all five. Either way, something had provoked his reaction.

With a strangled shout the Asset punched a hole into the wall, fist flying straight through the Captain’s grinning face with brutal accuracy. He violently tore the poster from the wall with one quick tug of his metal arm, tossing the debris onto the mattress with much more force than necessary. He glared daggers at the crumpled remains of the poster, unconsciously gripping the bedspread between his fingers and ripping through the patterned fabric. Filtered light shone in through the fist-sized hole in the wall, the Asset having managed to punch straight through to the opposite room, undoubtedly drawing the attention of every nearby guard with the amount of noise.

His chest rose and fell with heavy, laboured breaths. Shoulders hunched forward ever so slightly, head bowed and long hair falling down like a curtain. His jaw was clenched tightly shut, muscles tensed and ready for a fight. Insight could practically cut through the tension with a knife, the emotional turmoil permeating the air like a heavy fog. 

Bitter. Sour. Sweet. Tangy. Acidic. A thousand different variations of emotions mixing together into some horrible amalgamation. Insight could feel the Soldat’s emotions rubbing off on it, the sense of  _ fear, anger, confusion  _ rising within. Insight just barely repressed the urge to join in on the destruction, the rageful instinct that had lain dormant inside of it rearing its head with sudden interest.

“Soldat,” Insight warned as it stood completely still, trying to appear small and submissive to avoid being seen as a threat. They needed to leave. It could sense the fast approaching guards, could hear their footsteps growing louder.

The Asset’s head snapped to the side at the sound of Insights voice, goggles glinting menacingly in the low light as he turned to face Insight. He slowly straightened to his full height, looming aggressively above Insight as he stalked towards it with a predatory gait. Insight didn’t know his intentions, only that he was motivated by  _ confusion  _ and  _ fear,  _ with a small dash of  _ anger  _ for flavour. 

“Soldat,” Insight said more firmly. But he didn’t heed its warning, still walking toward it determinedly. The guards were almost there, and Insight needed to act.

Darting forward, Insight slipped behind the Asset and grabbed at the exposed skin at the back of his neck, scruffing him as you would a dog. He stiffened, undoubtedly alarmed by the sudden and aggressive contact, but Insight gave him no time to react. Sending waves of  _ relaxation  _ and  _ euphoria _ through him before he could even blink, dissolving the multitude of emotions almost instantly. He instinctively relaxed into Insight’s touch, tension melting as it was wiped away by Insight’s empathic abilities, leaving behind no remnants of the previous turmoil.

Tentatively, Insight released him, believing him to be calm enough so that they could both escape.

_ Confusion. Familiarity. Panic. Connection. Anger. _

Lightning fast, Insight once again grabbed hold of the scruff of his neck, dousing him with enough  _ serenity  _ that he almost collapsed face first onto the ground. Insight just barely managed to catch him in time by slinging his flesh arm over its shoulder. His limbs were completely limp and useless, but at least he was no longer trying to attack Insight.

Painstakingly slow, Insight shuffled over to the opened window. Hoisting the weakened assassin over the sill and out onto the rooftop, climbing out behind him. It tightened its grip on the Asset and began to run, practically dragging him along as it sprinted across the roof, the assassin uncharacteristically stumbling along like a drunkard. It would be funny if it weren’t such a hindrance. 

The screaming of alarms pierced the air, the guards instantly going on high alert at the first wailing note. The dogs began to bark incessantly, the security guards shouting orders at one another and aiming their guns at the fleeing assassins. Gunshots sounded in the air, the loud staccato punctuating the blaring of klaxons. Bullets flew just above their heads, missing them by just a few inches.

The only thing now standing between them and escape was the steep, fifteen foot gap between the manson walls and outer fence. Insight could jump that easily, but there was the deadweight of the Asset to worry about. The two of them rapidly approached the edge of the building, Insight picking up the pace in preparation for the final jump.

“A little help here?” Insight grumbled. The Soldat sobered up a little at Insight’s words, supporting most of his weight without Insight’s help. The extra support was all Insight needed to clear the gap. 

Insight leapt with every last bit of its strength, toes skimming over the top of the barbed wire fence. It hit the ground on the other side and rolled with the momentum, taking the brunt of the impact to cushion the Asset’s fall. There was no time to recover after the rough landing, as Insight immediately jumped to its feet, pulled up the Asset alongside it, and ran off into the nearby forests.

Insight ran until it could no longer hear the guards, losing them in the maze like layout of the trees. It absolutely refused to slow down until it was absolutely certain that they were safe. Waiting until the only sounds were of their own breaths and the murmurings of the forest before it changed their pace to a slow jog. 

The woods were blissfully cool and dark, illuminated only by the thin sliver of the crescent moon. A brisk wind shook the trees, spindly branches stretching out and shaking like fingers, casting twisted shadows onto the dirt. Leaves blew across the barren earth, rustling softly against the forest floor as they danced in the breeze.

Assured they were safe, Insight gently lowered the Asset onto the ground. Propping him up against a thick tree trunk before releasing its hold, finally allowing him to shake off the drug-like haze. Insight slipped off his mask, revealing glazed over eyes and a vacant, spacey expression. He blinked tiredly up at Insight, eyes clearing ever so slightly as he slowly came out of his stupor.

“How are you?” Insight inquired, squatting down to his level, taking off its mask as well.

His brow crinkled slightly as he mulled over a response, mind still muddled after the emotional overhaul. “Compromised,” he answered bluntly.

Insight huffed in what could be interpreted as a chuckle, “I noticed.”

His lips twitched upwards in a semi-smile before flattening back into a line. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his head back against the tree trunk, face screwed up imperceptibly in deep thought. No doubt reflecting on what had just happened.

_ Confusion. Familiarity. Panic. Connection. Anger.  _ The emotions were back, they’d never even faded. What exactly was it about the poster that made him react like this?

His eyes flew open and he shot up straight, grasping Insight’s wrist in a bruising grip, his eyes wide and almost fearful. “Use your abilities,” he said in a rush, swallowing dryly. Insight canted its head to the side confusedly, bitter understanding suddenly washing over it.

“Understood,” Insight nodded, it knew better than anybody what he was thinking. If the agents took one glance at him, they’d figure out the truth. Sniff out the mental shift just like bloodhounds. They’d find out about his emotional break, and torture him until the problem went away. 

They both knew that masking it was futile, pointless as a thin layer of paint atop thick, black marker. Hydra’d find out either way. But having any semblance of control over things was comforting, a placebo for their troubled minds. And so, Insight relented, gently pressing its fingers to his temple.

His grip on Insight’s wrist immediately slackened, hand falling limply to his side as the turmoil of emotions was wiped away. His eyes went half lidded, lips parted slightly as his features relaxed. Hesitantly, Insight moved its fingers from his temple to his cheek, cupping his jaw in one hand. Insight gently stroked his skin with its thumb, the assassin unconsciously leaning into Insight’s warm touch, a soft, content sigh slipping past his lips. 

“I won’t let them hurt you,” Insight promised quietly. And though both of them knew the promise was empty, the raw determinedness of Insight’s tone was extremely convincing. Ringing true in both of their ears. Insight carefully helped him to his feet, allowing him to lean on it for support as they made their way to the extraction point. They walked in comfortable silence, neither of them in any rush to return. 

But time passed far too quickly, and soon they were at the meeting point. The quiet tranquility interrupted by the loud, boisterous laughs of the neglectful agents. The group was standing around impatiently, boasting to one another about their accomplishments as they waited for the pair to return. 

Insight silently crept up behind them, clearing its throat to alert them to its presence. The group of agents jumped, a few younger ones shrieking embarrassingly at Insight’s sudden appearance. All of them simultaneously turned around to face Insight, their expressions of shock and annoyance morphing into condescending sneers as they looked at the Asset, sniggering quietly to one another as they took in his vulnerable state. Insight shifted its positioning so that its body shielded the Asset from view, glaring vehemently at the agents. “Mission complete,” it said blandly.

One of the braver--or perhaps foolish--junior agents scoffed at the Asset, arms crossed with false bravado, “what the hell happened to it?”

“Fuck if I know,” another agent grumbled annoyedly, “Whaddaya think, Rumlow?”

The bearded agent--Rumlow--looked at the two assassins disinterestedly, “Let’s just get going. We’ll have the techies take care of...that,” he offhandedly gestured to the both of them, turning away to begin loading up the armoured truck.

Insight imperceptibly tightened its arm around the Asset, jaw set and eyes cold as it looked out over the crowd of agents. Insight wouldn’t let them hurt him, it had promised.

And Insight refused to break that promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Insight tries to protect the Winter Soldier from what is to come, but finds itself caught between a rock and a hard place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I feel about this chapter, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

The ride back to base was tense. The agents constantly eyeing the both of them, waiting for one of them to snap.  _ Suspicion  _ and  _ paranoia _ saturated the air _ .  _ Sour and tart, with a sharp bite of spice as an afterthought. 

“What should we do with them?” one of the agents asked Rumlow as they began to file into the van.

Rumlow scrutinized the assassins with a searing glare, eyes focusing on the tight grip Insight had around the Asset. He grabbed Insight by the arm and manhandled it to the opposite end of the vehicle’s interior, “separate ‘em. Why does it matter?”

Evidently, it did matter.

The Asset didn’t take the separation well, even if it was only by a few feet. And Insight could only watch helplessly as he grew more and more unstable, his turbulent emotions slowly overtaking any reasoning he had left. The only thing keeping him in check was the  _ calming _ influence of Insight’s powers. But without skin-to-skin contact, there wasn’t much Insight could do to ease his turmoil. He was a ticking time bomb, and the agents were too blind to realize it.

“ETA?” Insight asked innocently.

Rumlow sent Insight a strange look, but answered its question regardless, “03:25.” Twenty minutes. He could last twenty minutes, right?

Apparently he could, though just barely. Each bump and rumble made him tense up, ready for a fight. And whenever an agent came even an inch too close, his posture would stiffen and grow taut. 

The second they arrived on base Insight slyly wrapped an arm around the Asset, defusing the bomb with one simple touch. The agents that noticed didn’t protest the contact--probably realizing that Insight was the only thing keeping him from lashing out--and allowed Insight to lead him out of the van and into the base. Insight kept a steady grip around the Asset’s midriff, ignoring the multitude of armed guards and instead focusing on the comforting warmth of its partner, pulling him closer into its side as they ventured deeper into the base. 

The base was damp and cold, and the room they were brought into was even colder. All concrete walls and iron bars, like a stereotypical prison cell. The machine that Karpov had spoken so fondly of sat in the center of the room, computers and machinery connected to it with thick electrical cables. It was menacing, domineering, something to be feared. And although Insight didn’t know the chairs purpose--having never seen it in use before--it knew that it should be wary of it.

The two of them were stripped of their weapons, leaving them in just their plain black undersuits. It was a typical post-op procedure, ensuring that they would be unarmed if either of them were to revolt. Insight’s fingers twitched around the ghost of their Glock 17, longing for the familiar feel of metal beneath its fingertips.

Next, a group of agents descended on the two and ripped the Asset from Insights grasp, forcing him into the machine. He sat silently, expression carefully schooled blank as he stared vacantly off into the distance. Scientists circled the Asset like apprehensive buzzards, darting in to recalibrate his arm and perform tests before quickly flitting away. Guards lined the walls as well, rifles clutched in their hands preemptively, ready to shoot if needed. 

“Mission report,” one of the higher ups ordered. Arms crossed expectantly over his chest as he glared down at the Asset, awaiting an immediate response.

Insight moved to stand beside the Asset, fighting the urge to rest a comforting hand on his shoulder and instead shooting him a reassuring glance. If there was one thing Insight knew, it was that you couldn’t hide anything from Hydra. They had ways to pull secrets from your head, rip things straight out of your mind. It wouldn’t be long before they uncovered what had happened, but that didn’t mean Insight couldn’t stall for him.

Insight cut the Asset off before he could speak,“both priority targets were eliminated, the third was off grounds.” The agent narrowed his eyes at Insight’s interruption, staring it down in an attempt to make it crack. Insight calmly returned his gaze, expression neutral. 

The agent relented, interpreting Insight’s quick response as eagerness to obey. “And the documents?”

“Our cover was blown and we had to leave. We were unable to retrieve anything,” Insight answered tonelessly, hands clasped behind its back.

The agent nodded in annoyance, teeth gritted at the bad news, “status report.”

“Full capacity, sir.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” he sneered. Insight nodded curtly, there was only so much redirection it could do to protect the Asset.

Several seconds passed in silence, tension stretching like a rubber band. The Asset’s face remained emotionless to any who looked at him, but Insight could sense what was boiling within.  _ Confusion. Familiarity. Panic. Connection. Anger.  _ The all too familiar pattern repeated itself over and over. 

“Status report,” the agent repeated annoyedly.

Insight waited nervously for a response, knowing what would come if he didn’t reply. “Compromised,” the Soldat finally answered.

**“** How are you compromised?” 

More silence. The Asset’s brow screwed up ever so slightly, as if even he didn’t know.

“How are you compromised?” the agent reiterated, tone growing louder as he became impatient. No answer. The agent’s face twisted in anger, and he drew back his hand in preparation to slap the Soldat across the face.

“A poster, sir,” Insight said suddenly, interrupting the arc of the agent’s hand. “It was a poster.”

“Would you stop interrupting?” the agent snapped, turning to face Insight with rage flashing in his eyes. He marched over to Insight, pulled a gun out of his pocket, and twisted the muzzle into Insight’s chest. “Remember your place, or so help me I’ll--”

“A Captain America poster,” the Asset said quietly, interrupting the agent’s threat by diverting attention from Insight and shifting it onto himself.

The agent’s eyes widened meaningfully at his words. He holstered his gun and walked over to one of the scientists, whispering hastily and intermittently glancing over to the Asset. Insight looked to the Asset from the corner of its eyes, noticing the look of bitter  _ resignation _ on his face as the two talked. 

The agent turned to address the rest of the room. “Wipe him. Start over.” That phrase. The number of times Insight had heard those words was impossible to count, but it had never once seen what it entailed. 

Whether it wanted to or not, Insight was about to find out.

Two scientists grabbed the Asset by the shoulders and pushed him roughly back into the chair. He went compliantly, allowing them to place a rubber guard in his mouth with no protests. But Insight could pick up on the slowly rising  _ panic _ . The acrid burning of the emotion growing stronger and stronger with each passing second.

One of the men hit a button on the monitor, and the restraints around his arms closed with a resounding snap, anchoring him in place. The  _ fear _ immediately increased tenfold. His chest heaving with uneven breaths as his fists clenched so tightly that they shook. 

The machine gradually whirred to life, the claustrophobic headset slowly beginning to encase his skull. The Asset’s face contorted in thinly veiled fear and anticipation, sweat already beading at his brow before the metal even pressed into his skin. 

The headset fully clicked into place. The gears ground to a halt. Electricity crackled and sparked as it ran through the nodes and into his temples.

And then he screamed. Oh God, he  _ screamed. _

So full of  _ terror  _ and  _ pain  _ that Insight instinctively tensed up at the sound. The animalistic yells of  _ agony _ reverberated off of the concrete walls, muffled only barely by the mouthguard. His voice was strained from the screaming, but he just wouldn’t stop, screams brutally ripped from his raw throat. His face was flushed an unhealthy crimson, the veins and tendons of his neck sticking out against his skin.

_ “I won’t let them hurt you,”  _ Insight’s previous words repeated over and over again in its mind, like a broken record. Insight had betrayed him, there was no sugarcoating it. Had given him a false sense of hope, and for what? To make Insight feel better about itself? Pathetic. He didn’t deserve this, no one deserved this. Whatever he had done in his previous life didn’t warrant this horrific torture.

_ You promised. _ Repeated a little, cruel voice in Insight’s head.  _ You promised he wouldn’t get hurt.  _ ** _Traitor._ **

_ We both knew. We knew that it meant nothing, _ Insight rationalized. But that voice of reason got drowned out by the bitter thoughts, squashed down and forgotten by the primal screams of the man beside it.

_ You promised. _

_ You promised. _

_ You promised. _

** _Traitor._ **

** _Traitor_ **

** _Traitor._ **

“I am not!” Insight roared, turning around and smashing one of the computer monitors to bits. Glass shattered and fell to the ground, glinting merrily in the bright fluorescent lights.

The machine slowly ground to a halt, the Asset’s screams quieting down once the restraints opened, electricity no longer coursing through him. Everything was still, the agents too shocked by Insight’s uncharacteristic outburst to move.

Then all hell broke loose. 

The guards hefted their guns in one fluid movement, all aiming directly at Insight before firing at once.

Insight dove to the side, just barely dodging the rain of bullets. Grabbing onto unaware agent and snapping his neck, Insight used his limp body to shield itself--and the Asset--from the gunfire. It pocketed his weapons as well, tucking a knife and several handguns in its belt before stealing his M16.

The agents shouted orders at one another, no doubt calling desperately for backup. The scientists fled from the room, cowardly rushing towards the exits like headless chickens. 

It was absolute chaos, just what Insight needed.

Insight hoisted the rifle and fired at the agents, cutting them down in swathes before it ran out of ammunition. Insight grabbed a clip from the dead agent, fed it into the magazine, and then clicked the magazine back into place, resuming its brutal onslaught. The guards numbers were slowly but surely thinning out through Insight’s meticulous attack. 

Insight tossed the decimated corpse aside and grabbed onto the Asset, pulling him behind the chair for cover. He was still out of it, dazed from whatever the machine had done to him. Nevertheless, Insight handed him one of its handguns, trusting him to keep its six.

Jumping out of cover, Insight took down two guards with two quick shots to the skull. It slung the rifle over its shoulder and whipped out the knife, slashing the throat of the closest agent before spinning around and stabbing another. It ducked down and kicked the legs out from under an approaching agent, stabbing the knife straight through his heart. Leaping to its feet, Insight pulled out a handgun and fired at the rest of the guards. Taking them down one by one until there were none left.

Except for one.

Insight froze at the cold feel of a gun pressed against the back of its head. It lowered its handgun and allowed it to drop to the floor, raising its hands in submission.

“Проница--” the agent began to address Insight by its title, but was interrupted by a bullet to the skull.

Insight turned around before the body even hit the floor. The Asset was standing shakily on his feet, the handgun that Insight had given him pointed outwards, still aimed at the agents head.

Insight smiled slightly, walking over and grabbing him gently by the arm. He looked to Insight confusedly. He didn’t know exactly what was going on, but still had helped Insight. Insight’s smile grew just a bit wider at the thought.

“I’m getting us out of here,” Insight promised. And this time, it meant it one hundred percent. Insight now had a reason to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed!


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Insight and the Winter Soldier fight for their lives, and their freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this chapter! I'm really excited for what's coming next!

They had no time to waste, it was only a matter of time before the whole base was alerted to their escape attempt. It was a miracle that the alarms weren’t already blaring.

Insight squeezed the Asset’s arm reassuringly before moving towards the door, cracking it open slightly and peeking cautiously out into the hall. Insight grimaced as it watched a squadron of agents turn the corner, all armed to the teeth and brimming with _ adrenaline _.

Insight quickly pulled the door closed, turning away to look around the room. Searching for something, anything, that could be used to protect them.

Insight’s gaze immediately locked onto one of the surgical carts. It was sturdy and built from metal, with four iron casters attached to the bottom. It was the perfect source of cover, or at least the best on hand. The two of them could hide behind the metal siding and use the wheels to cart it around, giving them a much needed edge over the guards. 

It certainly wasn’t ideal, but it would serve in a pinch.

Insight grabbed ahold of the cart and held it protectively in front of itself like a shield. It swept everything atop the cart to the ground, medical equipment falling and clattering loudly onto the concrete floor.

Insight glanced over to check on the Asset, watching quietly as he searched the fallen agents and armed himself with their equipment. It looked as if he had recovered from the physical effects of the machine fairly well, having lost the unhealthy pallor and dazed look in his eyes. But there was no telling whether he still suffered from whatever mental effects the chair had. Insight didn’t even fully understand what the machine had done to him, just that it had caused him immense fear and pain. He was _ anxious _just standing near the thing, like he expected someone to force him back into it at any moment. On edge and vigilant, as if he was just waiting for Insight to betray him.

_ You promised. _

Noticing Insight’s stare, he walked up to Insight and gave it some of the extra gear that he had scrounged up. Handing over a bullet proof vest, holster, extra clips, a second handgun and another knife. It seemed like he was on board with the escape plan, or at the very least wanted Insight to make it out.

Insight gratefully accepted the gear. Quickly pulling on the vest and clipping on the holster, smoothly tucking the knife and gun into their corresponding holsters. The vest wasn’t fitted properly, made for someone with broader shoulders, and the gun was weighty and off balanced compared to what Insight was used to. But Insight kept its mouth shut, too thankful to complain over such petty things.

“Thanks,” Insight said appreciatively, gesturing to its new gear. The Asset nodded in response, moving to stand behind the cart and sidling up beside Insight as he gripped onto the carts edge.

“On three,” the Asset said roughly, voice strained from overuse. Insight shifted into position, legs bent and handgun held at the ready, crouching just behind the cart. 

“One,” Insight tensed up like a coiled spring, muscles taut like iron cables as it lay in wait. 

“Two,” Insight drew back, waiting for his final word. 

“Three!” At his command Insight threw its full weight forward, and the two of them burst through the door and out into the hallway. Slamming straight into the group of agents and knocking a few of them off their feet in the process.

They must’ve looked ridiculous. The two of them squeezed behind the small cart, pressed tightly against each other as they fired at the agents. But as silly as they may have appeared, their strategy was brutally effective. The agents dropped like flies as they took them out from behind cover, completely unprepared for their attacks. The cart was dented from the agent’s responding gunfire, the metal bent and misshapen from the hammering of the bullets. Yet it remained stubbornly intact, still shielding them from the hail of bullets.

But they couldn’t stay like that forever. The agents were slowly gaining ground, beginning to surround the two of them despite their best efforts. 

Before they could be fully blocked in, Insight jumped atop the cart and launched itself at the remaining agents dramatically. Even throwing in an extra flip so that the guards would be distracted from the Asset and focus on Insight instead.

Insight crashed right into two of the agents, knocking them to the ground and incapacitating them with a swift kick to the head and a knife to the throat. Jumping to its feet, Insight rapidly fired at the others with skillful precision, ducking and weaving to avoid the responding bullets. 

Not that Insight was too worried about the guards attacks. The Asset and it worked off each other effortlessly, taking out any agents that posed even the slightest threat to the other. They covered each other instinctually, it was practically muscle memory at this point, ingrained into their very beings.

Insight holstered its Glock and whipped out the M16, ruthlessly mowing down the opposition, pausing only to reload the magazine before resuming the vicious onslaught. With one last well aimed bullet, the group of agents was down. 

But that was only the beginning.

A hideous alarm suddenly pierced the air, the loud wailing reverberating off of the concrete walls. The fluorescent lamps flashed on and off, intermitting between pitch black darkness and a bloody red. The red glow washed the two of them in dark crimson hues, the light glinting off of the Asset’s prosthetic eerily. 

A deep, booming voice came over the speakers, “Code red. Internal breach 02. All available agents report to northeast science wing.”

As if on cue, another group of guards rounded the corner. Much more prepared and organized than the previous group. In one fluid motion they hoisted their guns and fired at the two, the loud ratatat of gunfire sounding over the alarms. Insight only just managed to duck behind cover in time, barely avoiding the rain of bullets.

The bullets brutally tore apart the cart. The metal shaking and groaning from the unrelenting force of the blows. The thing was destroyed, hardly even standing. The metal was torn and pockmarked, and one side of the paneling was completely blown off. It wouldn’t last much longer. 

Insight glanced over to the Asset, and in a quick nonverbal exchange they formulated a plan. The two of them grabbed onto the cart and fled, still crouched behind the thing as they half-ran-half-waddled down the hall. 

Right before they turned the corner, Insight kicked the cart towards the crowd of agents, sending it careening into their ranks. The cart plowed straight through them, toppling them like bowling pins and sending them into disarray. The split second of chaos was all the two needed to put some distance between them, but they had lost their only source of cover in the process.

Regardless, the two of them continued undeterred. Navigating expertly through the maze-like layout of the base, relying on their eidetic memory to make their way back to the vehicle garage. It was easier said than done.

It took every last ounce of skill for them to sneak past the guards, and they weren’t always successful in doing so. There were just so _ many _, and it was easy to get overwhelmed. They had the wounds to show for it. 

Insight’s leg smarted with every step, blood spilling sluggishly from where a bullet had grazed its upper thigh. The Asset grimaced whenever his flesh arm was jostled, the shrapnel embedded in his arm cutting into him with every slight movement. The two of them sported numerous cuts and bruises as well, mottled purples and reds staining their skin. 

But they pushed through the pain, and before they knew it, they had arrived at the garage. The place was huge, with a high, arching ceiling and walls that seemed to go on forever. The size was only amplified by the multitude of vehicles, all lined wall to wall in gridlike rows. Armored vans, jeeps, reconnaissance cars, ATV’s, you name it, it was there. All brand new and begging to be taken. 

Insight’s gaze immediately latched onto one of the armored vehicles at the opposite end of the room. It was inconspicuous, able to survive a rough beating, and designed for all terrain use. Everything that Insight could possibly ask for. The plan was ready to be set in motion.

Except for one tiny, insignificant issue. 

The overhead door was shut tight.

It was as if the universe was toying with them. Dangling freedom tantalizingly in their faces only to yank it away last minute, like one would jingle car keys in front of a baby. Countless agents guarded the door, patrolling up and down the rows of vehicles as if they knew exactly what the two of them were planning. The door was on the opposite end of the room, but it might as well have been miles away.

There was no other way out that Insight knew of, and now that option was closed off.

But Insight refused to give up hope. They had come so far already, and who knows what would become of them if they were caught. Insight turned to the Asset and found a similar look of determination on his face, steely resolve glinting in his eyes. “You get us a ride, I’ll open the door,” he said, pointing to the control room situated next to the overhead door.

Insight nodded curtly and the two of them separated, the Asset rushing over to the control room while Insight snuck off to the armored car. Insight silently darted through the lineup of cars, stealthily making its way across the room. Creeping beneath and around the vehicles in order to avoid the patrolling agents, pausing to hide behind the cars before continuing forward. With bated breath it made its way closer to its desired car, slowly yet surely closing the distance between them.

Insight was only three rows away when the door began to open.

Insight froze as the door began to gradually slide upwards, the mechanical rollings and rumblings of the mechanisms setting the guards on high alert. The agents frantically shouted to one another, all rushing into the control room as one, guns raised and held at the ready. There was a quick tustle within the control room, but the fight was cut short when the Asset was forcibly dragged out of the room and was immediately engulfed in a crowd of agents. Subdued as he was mercilessly pummeled into the ground. Insight panicked as it realized the danger that the Asset was in, choosing to forgo the armoured car in favour of a closer vehicle.

Insight rushed to mount a nearby motorcycle. Quickly twisting the key in the ignition and shifting into gear, turning the throttle and revving the engine to life. The loud roar of the motorcycle diverted the agents attention, and Insight gave them no time to react before it drove straight towards them, plowing right through the crowd and sending them sprawling to the floor.

“Soldat!” Insight called out, reaching out towards him as it barreled on by. The Asset only just grabbed onto Insight’s outstretched hand, and Insight quickly pulled him up onto the seat behind it. He barely had time to wrap his arms around Insight’s waist before they were flying out the opened door, leaving the disoriented agents in their wake.

They careened down the well worn dirt road, the brisk wind pinching their skin and whipping their hair back as they sped away. The road was at a moderate incline, twisting and turning in convoluted patterns that made Insight tighten its grip on the handles. The surrounding forests were dense and dark, foothill pine trees looming overhead like towering giants, shading the two from the weak sunlight.

Insight frowned as it heard the fast approaching roar of enemy cycles, and in a momentary lapse of judgement, decided to veer off the road and plunge into the forests.

Insight almost immediately regretted its decision. The forest was steep and perilous. Trees mere feet away from each other, branches stretching out with the sole intention to knock them off the bike. Roots and rocks stuck up from the forest floor, dangerous obstacles that were nearly unavoidable. Each time the two hit one they were sent flying, and the only thing left to do was pray.

Insight expertly weaved between the trees, turning hairpin corners with the practiced ease of a professional. The motorcycle was scraped and abused from the number of times they had clipped by a tree, and Insights pants were scratched to ribbons. And yet Insight continued on, the slight crease between its brow betraying its fear.

A few of the motorcycles had followed after them. But they had quickly been overwhelmed by the terrain, crashing and exploding in a wave of fire and heat. Those that remained were picked off by the Asset, his impeccable skills allowing him to shoot the other riders despite the odds.

Yet somehow, one of the cycles managed to get the drop on them. The rider pulling up alongside them and firing rapidly. They should’ve been fine, what with the bullet proof vests and the Asset’s metal arm. But Insight’s vest was far too loose, and had ridden up during the chase, leaving its side completely exposed.

And so, in a burst of iron and copper, the bullet hit home. Tearing through muscle and burying itself deeply into Insight’s flesh. 

Insight let out a sharp cry, struggling to gain back control of the bike as they shot straight towards a tree. With a hiss of pain, Insight swerved away from the tree, scraping by the wood and ripping off a section of the metal casing.

A burst of _ anger _ exploded in the other assassin. He whipped out his gun and fired at the agent responsible for Insight’s injury, a sick sense of _ retribution _ washing over him when the agent slumped over dead. He tightened his grip around Insight and pulled it closer to him, and Insight couldn’t deny the comforting warmth that the action entailed.

The trees slowly began to thin out, the incline evening out until it was completely flat, And soon, they were back on the dirt road, this time driving alongside a rather imposing cliffside rather than a forest. Free of any pursuing agents.

Insight took a deep breath, relishing in the crispness of the air and the sunlight warming its skin. Cherishing the sense of freedom that these sensations evoked. 

But it seemed as if Insight had celebrated too soon. 

All of a sudden, a caravan of armoured cars came into view, encroaching on the two at alarming speeds. Armed turrets were fastened to the tops, the barrels glinting menacingly in the sunlight. There were far too many to fight off, and even if the two of them were in peak fighting condition they wouldn’t be able to. 

As if it couldn’t get any worse, another group of vehicles approached from behind. Practically nipping at their heels as they closed in on them, the two groups fully surrounding the both of them.

Staring in the face of death--or recapture, but which one was worse?--Insight made a split second decision. It glanced to the side of the road, noticing a flat rock that was propped up similarly to a ramp. Eureka.

“Hold on!” Insight shouted, veering suddenly to the left and driving up the ramp, launching itself over the side of the cliff.

Time seemed to slow down, the world coming to a standstill as they flew over the cliff. Insight resisted the innate urge to look down, blatantly ignoring the fatal drop in favor of looking straight ahead. The Asset’s grip around its middle became bruising, sending a hot burst of pain through Insight’s veins as he aggravated its wounds. Insight grabbed onto the arm wrapped around its midriff, fingers locking around the limb in an iron grip, refusing to let go.

Insight pushed off of the bike and leaped, dragging the Asset behind it as they closed the final gap. Reaching out desperately, straining to catch onto the rocky edge of the cliff, or else they’d fall to their deaths.

Time suddenly sped back to normal, like fast forwarding a DVR. The motorcycle plummeted to the distant ground below, but that was the last of Insight’s worries. Insight’s stomach fell out beneath it as the two of them flew through the air, legs flailing about in a panic. Insight’s fingers just barely caught onto the cliffs edge, fingertips quivering as it struggled to hold up itself and the Asset.

“Go, go, go!” Insight panted. The other assassin seemed to shake himself out of his stupor, and he scaled Insight like a rope and clambered up to safety.

Insight let out a sigh of relief, moving to pull itself up as well, when all of a sudden the bullet wound in its side gave a painful twinge. Insight cried out in pain, the cry quickly turning to a scream of terror as its grip loosened and it began to fall. 

_ Panic _seemed to explode like a bomb within the other assassin. Lightning fast the Asset darted forward and caught Insight by the wrist, yanking it up into his arms like it weighed nothing. 

“I got you,” he comforted. Insight merely nodded numbly before rising shakily to its feet, the Asset helping to keep it steady.

“Thank you,” Insight nearly sobbed, sending a wave of _ gratitude _to show its appreciation. His breath hitched minutely with the emotion, and his arms tightened around Insight.

“_ Thank you _,” he answered quietly. Insight smiled slightly, understanding what he was really referring to.

The two of them looked at the army of agents on the other side of the cliff, taking a quick moment to relish their newfound freedom before turning and fleeing into the surrounding woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed!


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two assassins managed to escape, now they just have to keep it that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the support! I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope you enjoy it as well!
> 
>   
Song for later: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lbjZPFBD6JU

Admittedly, running straight off into the forest wasn’t the greatest plan.

They were running off fumes. The only thing keeping them upright was the _ adrenaline _ in their veins and _ terror _ in their hearts. But that was burning off fast in the wake of bone deep _ exhaustion, _the likes of which Insight hadn’t felt in...well, Insight wasn’t one to keep track of time, but it had certainly been awhile since it had felt so drained.

It was a miracle that Insight hadn’t already keeled over from blood loss alone, having to lean heavily against its partner for support as they trudged through the woods. Blood dripped steadily down Insight’s side and to the ground, only to be immediately wiped away in order to hide their trail.

The bullet wound in Insight’s side festered and swelled, the skin puckering up and around the bullet entrapped in its flesh. Blood spurted out from the wound in a thick crimson stream, gushing forth like a chocolate fountain as the serum attempted to both knit the skin together and push the bullet out. The indecision resulted in the wound fluttering open and shut like a piece of paper flapping in the wind. A rather disgusting comparison, really. 

The two of them trekked doggedly through the forest, pace steady and unrelenting despite their wounds. There was no sign of enemy agents, nothing but their labored breaths and the drip, drip, drip of flowing blood. No sound except the billowing autumnal winds and the quiet rustle of the trees.

The sun gradually dipped below the horizon and the sky slowly transitioned from a dull grey to an inky black, plunging their surroundings into darkness. Only the soft glow of the moon illuminated the forest, buttery warm light washing over the fallen leaves and occasionally reflecting off of the Asset’s prosthetic in a quick wink of light. It was oddly peaceful, but maybe that was just the blood loss induced delirium talking. 

After hours of walking the two finally emerged from the treeline, finding a rundown gas station in the middle of an open field, the bright neon sign flashing intermittently. A single winding road twisted through the tall grass, disappearing over a hill in the distance. 

Everything seemed beaten down, weathered and worn from the years, almost abandoned in appearance. And yet there was still life, however quiet and subdued. A flickering light in the gas station window, an old sedan parked beside the gas pump, the quiet mechanical hum of fluorescent lighting.

The two of them cautiously approached the station, moving slowly as to not garner unwanted attention. With whatever grace they could muster they sidled up to the sedan, peeking in through the window and stealing a glance at the dashboard. 

Deeming the car satisfactory, the Asset broke open the car lock and slipped into the driver's seat, easily popping the plastic casing off the wheel and exposing the wiring. He clipped two of the power wires from the ignition cylinder and scraped off the rubber ends, gingerly twisting the wire filaments together to avoid being shocked. Electricity hummed encouragingly, the dashboard flickering to life along with the overhead lights as power was provided to the systems. 

He quickly snipped the starter wires and stripped off the ends, briefly touching them together to start up the car. The engine roared to life, the rumblings resembling the deep purrings of a jungle cat. A rather sick, raspy sounding jungle cat, but a big cat nonetheless. The Asset popped open the steering lock with a quick flick of his metal hand, and they were ready to go.

Insight slid into the passenger's seat, hands cupped around the wound in its side in order to protect the leather upholstery. The Asset shifted the car into gear and drove off down the road, and soon the gas station was nothing more than a blurry light in the distance.

The two of them sat silently, taking the time to catch their breath. The rhythmic vibrations of the moving car did little to soothe their nerves, nor did the steady hum of the dashboard. It was quiet except for the soft, smoky voice crooning on the radio, singing a slow paced jazz song that Insight had never heard before.

_ Come away with me in the night _

_ Come away with me _

_ And I will write you a song _

_ Come away with me on a bus _

_ Come away where they can't tempt us _

_ With their lies _

Insight shivered as it was overwhelmed with a sudden bout of chills, its tattered clothes doing little to fight off the cold. The gunshot wound in its side was throbbing dully, blood seeping through its fingers and dripping onto the leather seating, sticking tackily to its fingers.

Insight sighed heavily, both in annoyance and exhaustion. It wiped off its grubby fingers, pulled out its remaining weapons and began to clean them, cataloguing exactly what remained after the escape.

M16? Check.

Two Glocks? Only one left.

Two knives? One was still stuck in the throat of an agent.

Still, it was a respectable hoard. 

Insight disassembled the guns with practiced ease. Placing the parts up on the dashboard in organized rows, arranging them so that they wouldn’t be noticed if someone drove by. 

Insight carefully wiped down the parts with its sleeve. It was slightly peeved over the lack of cleaning materials and solvent, but it made do. Meticulously cleaning off the fingerprints and blood that stained the metal until it shone, reassembling the guns once it was satisfied.

A sudden nudge to the side startled Insight from its task, it pocketed the knife it was currently cleaning and turned to face the Asset. He was looking out at the road, but his arm was outstretched towards Insight, offering it a fresh change of clothes. He’d already pulled on a navy blue fleece, having taken off the bloody undershirt he was wearing earlier. He must’ve found the clothing in the back seat, probably left behind by the cars previous owners. 

_ I want to walk with you _

_ On a cloudy day _

_ In fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high _

_ So won't you try to come _

_ Come away with me and we'll kiss _

_ On a mountaintop _

_ Come away with me _

_ And I'll never stop loving you _

Insight took the clothing with a whispered thanks, pulling off the blood soaked undersuit without a trace of self consciousness, revealing a simple sports bra and cotton underwear. Insight quickly tugged on the new grey sweatshirt and black leggings, tossing the old clothing in the back.

Blood slowly began to seep through the fabric of the sweatshirt, but the flow had already slowed down significantly, so the stain was less prominent. They’d need to treat the gunshot wound soon, and remove the shrapnel from the Asset’s arm as well. He had yet to complain, but the slight grimaces he made whenever he turned the steering wheel was enough.

_ And I want to wake up with the rain _

_ Falling on a tin roof _

_ While I'm safe there in your arms _

_ So all I ask is for you _

_ To come away with me in the night _

_ Come away with me _

The song finished with a gentle flourish of piano keys, and another queued up in its place. Brighter and poppier, with techno beats and shrill singing. Insight winced, twisting the volume knob down to zero.

Without the music to act as a buffer, the atmosphere was strangely awkward. What was there even to talk about, anyway?

“Get some rest,” the Asset advised after a long pause, “I’ll find somewhere safe.”

Insight nodded agreeably, leaning back against the seat and closing its eyes trustingly, letting the even beat of the tires lull it into a light slumber.

* * * * 

Insight didn’t know exactly how much time had passed. But when the Asset finally shook it awake the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, deep oranges and blues spreading across the once velvety black sky. 

“Get ready,” he huffed, before slipping out the door.

They were parked in a nondescript parking lot, hidden behind several other similar looking cars. Cheesy tourist shops lined the streets, keychains, mugs, and other random merchandise stacked up behind the windows. All proudly proclaiming to truly represent the “Golden State” of America. But Insight wasn’t interested in buying a random shirt with a bear on it, it cared more about where they went next.

Insight tucked the Glock in the waistband of their pants, slinging the M16 over its shoulder and hiding it beneath its sweatshirt. The bunching of the material helped disguise the gun, as long as no one looked too closely.

Insight looked out the window and spotted the Asset, watching as he disposed of their tattered clothing in a nearby dumpster. Noticing Insight was awake, he walked over and opened the passengers side door, helping Insight to its feet before beginning to walk down the street, dragging Insight behind him. He subtly wrapped an arm around Insight to help support it, his metal hand tucked into the pocket of his jacket. 

He ducked his head down and whispered into Insight’s ear, “I found us a place to stay, follow my lead.” Insight snaked an arm around him in response, squeezing lightly to show it understood. 

The two of them hurried down the street, looking like a typical young couple. Huddled close together, heads inclined towards one another, pace lined up perfectly. But it was all just a front, a way to avoid detection.

They walked for what felt like hours, each step reopening the wound in Insight’s side. Blood blossomed across the sweatshirt, the dark crimson stain standing out against the grey fabric. Like a single poppy on a bed of stone.

But Insight persevered, biting down any groans of pain that threatened to slip past its lips. It managed for awhile, long enough that the number of shops dwindled until there were none left. Leaving nothing but the road and the few trees that grew by it.

But everything was catching up with it. The blood loss, exhaustion, hunger, a million different factors that made its head ache and knees buckle. Insight felt as if it was on a cloud. Head stuffed with cotton and legs weak and flimsy, like it was about to blow away in the wind. Just like the dandelion fluff that children made wishes on.

“Wait,” Insight slurred, trying to blink away the black spots in its vision, simultaneously fighting off a wave of dizziness. Insight took a deep breath, clutching onto the Asset’s shoulder in an attempt to steady itself. “Okay, I’m fine.”

All of a sudden the cotton turned to lead, and Insight sank to the ground from the unexpected heaviness. 

A weight pressed down on its chest, dragging it to the ground effortlessly as if it were a puppet with its strings cut. A strangled gasp left its mouth, a half hearted attempt at crying out for help before its throat stopped working. 

Insight’s eyes slammed shut like vault doors as unconsciousness swooped in and swallowed it whole.

* * * *

When Insight fell to the ground the Asset didn’t know what to do.

He was barely able to catch her before her head smacked against the concrete, cradling her to his chest as he sank to the ground alongside her. 

She was so frail, a sense of vulnerability about her as she lay limply in his arms. Chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, lips parted and slightly blue as her face lost its coloration. Nothing like the woman who had just went up against an entire Hydra base and won, or the closest thing to it.

For a moment he just sat there, panic keeping him rooted to the spot.

_ Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. _

But then the years of training kicked in, and almost robotically he gathered her up in his arms and ran--practically sprinted--to his destination. Ignoring the stabbing pains in his flesh arm and choosing instead to just clutch her closer to him, the M16 on her back pressing painfully into his chest.

In almost no time he had arrived at the abandoned motel, the dilapidated billboard out front promising ‘Fun for the Whole Family!’ He had spotted the place during the drive, and had known it was perfect. It was old and worn down, broken and abandoned. The Asset was beginning to detect a pattern.

But there was no time to mull over that. He ran over to one of the doors and twisted the knob experimentally. Locked, but he had expected that. Without missing a beat he kicked the door open, stumbling inside the dimly lit room and slamming the door shut behind him.

Dust swirled around him in mini cyclones as he rushed to the master bedroom--the only bedroom, but that was an issue for later--gingerly depositing her on the moth eaten sheets. He ripped off her blood soaked sweatshirt and pressed it to the weeping wound, applying pressure with both hands, tossing the M16 aside onto a nearby leather chair.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” he muttered to himself, the icy panic beginning to sink its claws into him once more. “Wake up!”

As if sensing his desperation--which, technically, she could--Insight awakened with a gasp. Flailing about blindly as she tried to figure out where she was. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, but seemed to clear when she locked eyes with him, her panic ebbing as her mind made the connection.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, letting a small, relieved smile spread across his face. But only for a second.

“Turns out, I wasn’t fine,” Insight wheezed, fingers trembling as she moved to press the fabric against her wound, entwining her fingers with his own.

Awkwardly he withdrew his hands, suddenly feeling very out of his depth despite having dealt with way worse wounds. “Do you....need anything?”

“I need this bullet out of me,” Insight said bluntly, lips pulled back in a shaky smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, whipping out the penknife he had pilfered from one of the souvenirs stands, flicking off the protective cap and revealing the pointed blade beneath. Insight obligingly lifted the sweatshirt, gritting her teeth in anticipation. “Ready?” he asked, knife poised just above the wound.

“Yes,” Insight bit out, staring resolutely up at the ceiling.

With a surgeon’s steady hand he made the first cut, digging into the hole and trying to shovel the bullet out. That didn’t do much except open the wound even more, blood streaming out from the cut like a waterfall. Insight hissed quietly behind her teeth, refusing to admit even the slightest bit of discomfort.

“Sorry,” he apologized as he dove in again, probing about with careful caution. The blade’s tip caught just beneath the bullet, and with a slight flick of his wrist it popped out with a sickly squelch. He wiped the knife on his pant leg before capping it, placing it on the nightstand along with the bullet. 

He pressed the sweatshirt against the wound once more, and Insight quickly took the shirt from him and applied pressure herself. “Thanks,” she breathed, tuckered out from the operation and blood loss, eyelids beginning to slide closed.

“Hey, stay awake,” he ordered. Insight’s eyes immediately flew open, unblinking in obedience. And that was something they would certainly discuss later, but for now the Asset was glad that she wasn’t floating off to who knows where and leaving him alone. Not while he was still so confused. 

His mind was still in tatters, and yet it had never been clearer. 

His memory may be absolute shit, and he may no longer remember exactly why the poster had set him off. _ There was a distant memory of a short and spindly blond with a bloody nose and bloodier fists. Along with a taller, stockier version with a grime smeared face and blue cowl. But that faded whenever he reached out to grab it, leaving behind nothing but a taste of ash and carnival cotton candy in his mouth. _But he knew that Insight was important. Knew it deep in his bones, like how birds know to fly south for the winter. And the last thing he wanted was to be without her, even if she was just asleep.

“M’kay,” Insight conceded, blinking blearily up at him. “What about your arm?”

“I’m fine,” he said dismissively, ignoring the reproachful twinge of the shrapnel embedded in his flesh. He could dig that out on his own, but he had to make sure Insight was alright first.

“Mhm,” Insight said disbelievingly. “You know I can sense your pain, right?”

Well, he did. He was just fooling himself thinking he could hide it from her. “It’s not that bad. Not gonna fall over anytime soon.”

“That’s exactly what I thought, but look at us now,” Insight shrugged, patting the space beside her on the bed, “come here.”

Carefully, he sat down on the edge of the bed, making sure he didn’t jostle Insight as he sat down. She grabbed his right arm and carefully rolled up the sleeve, slowly stretching it out and examining it with a searching gaze, pinpointing every scrap of metal entrapped beneath the skin. She slowly sat up in order to face him, holding up her hand firmly in order to stop him from intervening.

She grabbed the penknife from the nightstand and uncapped it, giving it a cursory glance to make sure it was clean. Glancing up at him she asked, “Do you want me to numb it?”

He pondered it for a moment, debating whether or not he wanted her to use her abilities on him. “Alright.” With his permission she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly as a warning. And that’s when the indescribable feeling began. 

Heat spread out from her hand, rushing over him in warm, pulsating waves. It was like something loosened within him. Tension melting as his mind was allowed to float free, spiralling up, up and away from his body. Allowing him to forget his worries and stresses in favor of just observing passively, thoughts airy and light as he looked down at himself from above. Like a ghost.

The sensation brought along with it a strong sense of deja vu. Not just because of the feeling, but because of the amount of times he felt he had been in a similar situation. It wasn’t always as strong as this, that he was sure of. Not like he was complaining. But there were many times before where it was just a gentle nudge on his mind, a soft embrace of his psyche, and not a complete overhaul like it was now.

He was distantly aware of his own body, feeling a slight tugging as Insight cut into his arm. She removed the shrapnel with ease, ripping off strips of the pillowcase to use as bandages. He watched as her lips moved, unsure why she was doing such a thing when he suddenly realized that she was talking to him.

“I’m not sure what to call you, y’know? And I’m sure you’re thinking the same thing,” she thought aloud as she wrapped the makeshift bandages around his arm, “You have a name, that I know for sure. Everyone does. Though I don’t remember mine....” she trailed off momentarily. “It’s just that ‘Soldat’ and ‘Asset’ aren’t personal enough, or at all. And ‘Winter Soldier’ is a mouthful, and isn’t exactly a name, either.” she pursed her lips in concentration, “You’ll think of something, probably just remember your own name. It’s weird to think that technically we can _ do _that now. Remember.” she smiled wistfully, “okay, all done.”

She withdrew her hand and he was slammed unceremoniously back into his body. Bombarded by fear and stress, and the millions of aches and pains he had somehow forgotten about. It was all_ so much _ . And his throat closed up and his lungs wouldn’t work and _ why couldn’t he breathe he was opening his mouth but there was no air whereisitwhycan’thebreathewhy-- _

“Hey! Hey!” Someone was wrapping their arms around him, and that was strange because how could he feel if he was _ dead _. He could hear someone counting in intervals. Up to four, then to seven, then eight. In. Hold. Out. The warmth was back, but less prominent, a quiet influence that helped even his breathing. “You’re alright.”

And he was. He was curled up on the bed, arms wrapped tightly around Insight as he burrowed his face into her collarbone. She gently carded her fingers through his hair and rubbed circles in the small of his back, humming a tune that he could’ve sworn he’d heard before.

This was nice, maybe he could just stay there and--

And no. There were a lot of things wrong with this. Like how he wasn’t supposed to be this weak, this vulnerable. He was the Winter Soldier, he didn’t get compromised from such ridiculous things.

_But you don’t have to be._ _Don’t have to be the Winter Soldier. _A distant voice said in his head.

But no, that couldn’t be true. Because he’d never be able to escape the _ thing _ that had been brutally carved into his very soul. Could never escape, could never--

He couldn’t breathe again. No matter how many times he inhaled there wasn’t enough oxygen to satiate the burning in his lungs. And he knew it wasn’t real, and yet…

“Shush,” Insight comforted, “you’re fine.” And with a few quick, fleeting touches, his breathing eased up and he could think clearly. And oh, this was so very, very nice, he could probably fall asleep. What with the gentle touches, soothing melody, Insight’s bare skin radiating heat.

Wait.

He slipped out of Insight’s grip and off the bed. Suddenly very aware of the fact that she was only wearing tight fitting pants and a sports bra, and that he was just face deep in her chest. And also that she had bled all over him. Great.

“I need to check the perimeter,” he explained, moving hastily to leave.

“Wait,” she called after him. “I don’t know if you heard me, but do you have something else I can call you?”

He paused in the doorway, turning to raise a questioning brow in Insight’s direction.

“It doesn’t have to be your name if you don’t remember it. Just....something that resonates. I can’t keep thinking of you as ‘Asset.’”

He thought for a moment, searching through what little memories he had for something, anything that could be used.

Then he found it.

It wasn’t his, he knew that. But it was important. Made him think of something long lost and nostalgic. Of rollercoasters and long nights spent talking and cleaning up cuts and bruises.

“Steve,” he answered, “call me Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed!


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Insight and...Steve plan what to do next, and Insight gets a new name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie to you, I hate this chapter. It's eluded me for weeks, and no matter what I'm never satisfied with the end product. At this point, I just need to post it and move on. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy, and I apologize if it doesn't live up to expectations.

The Asset—Steve, he’d asked Insight to call him Steve—left in a rush, the lingering emotions of _ panic _ and _ embarrassment _saturating the air.

Insight let out a heavy sigh, falling back onto the musty pillows and staring up at the ceiling. The gaping hole in its side gave a twinge of protest at the movement. But the pain quickly diminished, stifled by the fabric Insight pressed against the wound.

Another exasperated sigh left its lips, much louder this time. Steve had not only closed himself off after his breakdown, but he had also ran to God knows where under the guise of a ‘perimeter check.’ Now, Insight didn’t know the first thing about normalcy, but it could estimate that a reaction like that was unhealthy. And Insight knew if he continued to distance himself like this, things would inevitably go south. The two of them needed to get on the same page, and fast. Every moment they worked against one another was an opportunity for Hydra to catch up with them.

Just the thought of being captured again sent a chill up Insight’s spine. And although Insight didn’t remember much—memories had been beaten out of it long ago—it knew how vicious Hydra could be. Hell, it had witnessed the extent of their cruelty mere hours before. Just the memory of what Steve had been subjected to made it seethe with barely contained anger.

Insight sat up against the headboard, lifting the fabric from its side and checking the bullet wound. The bleeding had abated and the skin had already begun to knit back together; benefits of the injections. Insight tossed the bloodied sweatshirt aside, swinging its legs off of the bed and attempting to stand.

“You could at least help me,” Insight said, addressing Steve who was standing quietly in the doorway.

“You should be resting,” Steve said disapprovingly. But he still walked over and helped Insight to its feet, keeping a steadying grip on its arm.

“I’ll rest when we’re safe,” Insight said bitterly, scooping up the discarded M16 and slinging it over its shoulder.

“You have to rest eventually,” he pointed out.

Insight snorted, walking out of the room and heading down the hall, Steve following closely behind. The place was small, with only three rooms in total; master bedroom, living area, and bathroom. The living area was open, consisting of a dusty patchwork couch and blocky television, as well as a kitchen—just a grimy fridge, microwave, and a small folding table with two chairs—that melded into it.

Insight limped over to the couch and flopped onto it, thick clouds of dust billowing through the room upon contact. Steve stood hesitantly by the arm of the couch, debating whether or not to sit.

“Perimeter is clear,” he informed Insight, “we can stay here for the time being.”

“That’s good,” Insight nodded.

“But we’re low on supplies,” he added. “I’ll go back to town and scrape something together.” 

“Let me come with you,” Insight said, a subtle pleading note to its voice. It didn’t want to be useless, didn’t want to be a sitting duck if Hydra were to barge in.

_ Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. _

He shook his head, “too risky. You’re a liability in your condition.”

Insight grit its teeth. Whether in annoyance or fear, it didn’t know. “Fine,” it seethed, pulling the M16 off its back and handing it to him, “here.” Insight handed him the last combat knife as well, “have these.”

Insight’s grip on the knife was shaky, almost imperceptible to the untrained eye. But he could see it, frowning minutely as he took the knife from its hand.

“Everything alright?” he asked, tucking the knife away and hiding the gun beneath his jacket.

“I’m fine,” Insight said dismissively. Pressing down the feelings of abandonment and paranoia that bubbled within. “Just be safe.” He nodded resolutely and headed out the door.

“Wait,” Insight called out. He turned back around expectantly, “make sure to get me a shirt.” 

He nodded once more, lips turned upwards ever so slightly before he closed the door behind him.

Insight let out another sigh, grabbing a chair and stopping up the front door, all the while grumbling about how the lock was broken.

“Well,” Insight mused, “might as well make myself useful.”

* * * *

Hours passed painfully slow as Insight waited for Steve’s return. Its anxiety riddled brain concocting a thousand theories of what could have happened to him.

What if he had been captured again? What if he’d been killed? What if he’d just left Insight behind?

But those worries were put to rest once Insight sensed his return. Detecting his emotional aura as he approached, the feeling both foreign and familiar. (He’d never really _ had _emotions before, let alone an aura of them). 

Sensing his presence just outside the door, Insight jumped up from its perch on the couch. Rushing to the door and pulling the chair away, cracking it open and peeking out to ensure it was Steve.

It certainly was him, unless shapeshifters were a thing. He was dressed inconspicuously, metal hand tucked innocently in his jacket pocket. A heavy black backpack was slung over his shoulder, a plain baseball cap angled downwards to cover his face. “It’s me,” he reaffirmed, tilting up his cap so Insight could see his face better.

Insight opened the door, ushering him in and closing the door behind him, sliding the chair back in place.

“I secured the area while you were gone,” Insight explained, gesturing to the now covered windows. It had found thick bed sheets in the closet and had used them to block up the glass. No one could peer in, and no silhouettes would be visible.

“Good,” he commended, “here.” He reached into his pack and handed Insight a new navy blue sweatshirt.

“Thanks,” Insight said gratefully, pulling on the sweatshirt and running its hands over the front in appreciation.

He walked to the kitchen table and placed the bag on top of it, dumping out the contents and laying them out in neat rows. Protein bars, trail mix, ammo, basic toiletries, more clothes, and a rolled up wad of cash. Insight didn’t question where it all came from, simply laying its gun on the table. Steve followed Insight’s lead and put the M16 on the table as well, placing the combat knife right beside it.

“This’ll last us for a while,” Steve said, eyeing the pile carefully, “we just have to be careful, and ration it.” He grabbed two of the protein bars, tossing one to Insight and tearing into his own.

Insight pulled off the plastic wrapping and bit into the bar, its stomach roaring to life after the first mouthful. The quiet grumblings reminded Insight just how long it had been since it had last eaten; almost a full day now. Insight quickly finished the ration, reluctantly tossing the wrapper into the trash bin.

Noticing Insight’s hunger, Steve held out the remaining half of his protein bar “Have mine, I’m not hungry.”

“No, I’m fine” Insight declined, not wanting him to deprive himself of a meal, no matter how pitiful it was.

“Really, it’s nothing,” he insisted.

“I said, I’m fine,” Insight refused once more, stomach rumbling contrarily.

“Take it,” he said firmly, leaving no room for debate.

Glaring reproachfully, Insight plucked the bar from his hands and ate it. Scowling at him all the while.

“That wasn’t so hard.”

Insight scoffed, throwing the wrapper away and crossing its arms over its chest. “You seem awfully proud of yourself,” she snarked. He huffed a laugh, rolling his eyes almost fondly. 

It was nice to have a conversation that didn’t revolve around running or killing, one that didn’t remind Insight of the past. It was refreshingly normal, blessedly mundane. Insight wanted more.

But sadly, it couldn’t last forever.

“So what I think,” Steve said, moving to the couch and sitting down. “Is that we should stay in America.”

“Really,” Insight said, almost disbelievingly. “And why’s that?”

“They--” Insight tensed up from the indirect mention of Hydra. “--are expecting us to flee the country. But if we do the opposite, and stay in the U.S , we can throw them off our trail. As long as we keep moving east, we’ll stay under the radar.”

“And you’re okay with...all that?” Insight asked, voice uncharacteristically quiet and meek.

That was the million dollar question. The very one that had been plaguing Insight since they had fled the base. The one that made Insight rethink everything it knew, everything that it valued and believed. 

_ Did Steve truly want this? Had Insight somehow coerced him into leaving? _

And while Hydra hadn’t been kind to either of them--downright evil, in some instances--Insight still doubted its choice. Many would say that Insight’s decision to leave was understandable. Heroic, even. And yet, it found itself unsure whether or not it did the right thing. 

Arguably, Insight had forced Steve to come. Dragging him into the fight whether he liked it or not. (Or at least, that’s how Insight saw things). And sure, he had seemed enthusiastic in the fight to escape. But who knew what that machine had done to him, or just how much it had compromised his decision making.

Insight didn’t like forcing people to do things. It was something that it never seemed to shake, no matter what Hydra did to it. Maybe it was a remnant from its past life, a vestige of who it used to be. So with that, the possibility of Steve having not consented to escaping was almost too much to bear.

“Yes,” he said resolutely, as if he could see right through Insight to the turmoil within. _ Yes, I want to be here. Yes, I want to stay with you. Yes, I’m glad we’re free. _And with that, Insight’s worries faded away. He just sounded so sure, so determined and honest that Insight couldn’t even begin to doubt him. “Of course.”

Insight breathed out in relief. “Okay.”

“I want to be free,” he continued, answering Insight’s silent question. “I’m just...struggling with the idea of it.”

Insight nodded understandingly. “Me too.” Several moments of silence passed by. “How about this; once we reach the coast, we hitch a ride to another country--maybe somewhere in Europe--and lay low. The search would’ve died down enough that we’d slip through the cracks.” Insight walked over to the couch and sat down beside him, looking to him for his response.

“Good idea,” he nodded thoughtfully, “how about...Romania. Bucharest, Romania.” Insight nodded in agreement, glad that they were coming to an agreement. That they were working together as one. “But for now, we’ll stay here,” he continued, “at least until you’re all healed.”

Insight grimaced as it remembered its injuries. Its bullet wound had begun to seal, but the area was still tender and sore, and could reopen with one wrong move. It envied Steve’s enhanced, faster healing. His flesh arm was already good as new, moving without a problem. “Three days, then?”

“Three days.”

“Glad that’s over with,” Insight chuckled half-heartedly, leaning back against the couch. “Never thought I’d end up here.”

“In a crappy motel room?” his lips were upturned in a subtle, sarcastic smirk.

“You know what I mean,” Insight said playfully, “free.”

He was quiet as he looked at Insight meaningfully, eyes full of understanding.

“I mean...it hasn’t even really sunk in. I said that already, I know. It just feels fake, like a dream. Like at any moment they’ll barge in and bring me back,” Insight shook its head, “it’s scary. I don’t want anything to happen to me. Or worse, you.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you, to either of us.” he promised, even if it was impossible. “It’s us against the world.” God, what would Insight do without him? It couldn’t imagine going through this alone, and it was only just the beginning.

Insight chuckled, “sure feels like it.”

“Do you...remember anything? Your name, your past, anything?” he asked gently.

“Do you?” Insight asked, tilting its head to the side curiously.

Steve stared up to the ceiling, “yes...and no. It’s mainly feelings, tastes and smells and sensations. Nothing solid. I know...I know that there was a Steve. And he....he was important. That’s all I’ve got, all that’s _ real.” _

“So that’s why--”

“Yeah.”

Insight screwed up its face, struggling to remember something, _ anything. _ Reaching out desperately at the scattered threads of its identity, straining to grab even the smallest scrap. A name, a face, even the slightest feeling would be more than enough.

Its efforts were interrupted when it was overwhelmed by the sensation of someone _ twisting _ a knife into its side. Feeling as if its guts were being viciously ripped out and dumped onto the floor. Insight gasped, hunching forward and wrapping its arms around its stomach, trying futilely to hold in its spilling organs. “ _ Fuck. _”

Steve lurched forward, hands hovering above Insight as if he were unsure whether he should intervene. Gently, oh so gently, he placed a hand between Insight’s shoulder blades. Rubbing his thumb back and forth in an effort to soothe the pain. There was nothing to do except wait it out, no way to relieve the torture Insight was going through.

Gradually, the pain faded. The strange fit ending as suddenly as it began. Insight sat back up, Steve’s hand still pressing firmly against its back.

“What was that?” he asked worriedly, withdrawing his hand. Insight already missed the warmth.

“A goddamn mental pitfall,” Insight spat, “in case I ever try to remember.” What else had been conditioned into it? What else was still lurking beneath the surface?

“Shit.”

“I can’t...it hurts I can’t,” Insight stammered, wrapping its arms tighter around itself.

“Shush, it’s fine,” he reassured, squeezing its shoulder comfortingly, “I’ll think of a name for you.”

“Really?”

“‘Course,” he smiled slightly, “how about...Doll.”

“Doll?” Insight questioned.

“It’s bad, isn’t it. Sorry, it was the first thing I--”

“No, no,” Insight--Doll--interrupted his rambling. “I like it, it’s growing on me.”

He smiled warmly, the smile actually reaching his eyes, “whatever you say, Doll.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I promise the next one will be better! Please leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


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